


The Unkindness of Valravn

by TaliskerMortem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, BAMF Stiles, But They Sort Their Shit Out I Promise, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mainly In The Past, Nemeton, Past Character Death, Past Stiles Stilinski/Other(s), Slightly Dark Stiles, Stiles Comes Back, Tattooed Stiles, Unhealthy Relationships, Valravn, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaliskerMortem/pseuds/TaliskerMortem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They are rare, almost unheard of. Only Lydia seems to recognise the word. Valravn. The Raven People. They descend on Beacon Hills in their hour of need. Obliterating the enemy. At their head? A man dress in black. A man covered in tattoos. A man they all knew.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>OR: The one in which Stiles hasn't been back to Beacon Hills in seven years, during which he visited Europe, was attacked by a raven and turned into a shifter, has lots of tattoos and is now the Alpha of his little ragtag group of Valravne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I have exams in just over a week and I've done no revision. Instead, I've started two new fics. Here's one of them.
> 
> I will warn you that I'm really bad at tagging so if there is anything you think I should put in the tags, don't hesitate to tell me so. Also, this is primarily a Sterek fic but other relationships will crop up and I don't want to tag them all because - spoilers.
> 
> Final Warning: there is a canon character who is not portrayed particularly pleasantly in this fic as when I started writing this, I did not trust them at all, and I stopped watching TW during the fourth season so haven't really seen their development.

      

      

      

_[The Unkindness of Valravn](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/167516554383/t-h-e-u-n-k-i-n-d-n-e-s-s-o-f-v-a-l-r-a-v-n) _

* * *

** Prologue **

Chaos. Unsurpassed chaos. Untamable chaos. The screams rip the night air in two, screams of pain, of anger, of fear all enveloped by the constant wail of a banshee. Bodies are scattered around the abandoned distillery. Dead, unconscious, injured. The police will come if they are not careful. But they are beyond care. Beyond reason. Wild. Feral.

Eyes shine into the darkness. Red. Blue. Gold. Orange. Fire crackles around them, petering out in places and just gaining momentum in others. There are too many off them. Surrounding them. They are going to lose. They are going to die. The banshee screams on.

Claws and fangs; swords and guns. They are falling. The enemy advance on them, pushing them inwards, encircling them. There is no escape. There is no rescue. There is no hope.

Their leader, tall and frail emerges from their midst. He limps. Power does not always come from strength. Wisdom does not always come from age. His eyes are lifeless. Not dead. Lifeless. Glassed over. Looking but not really seeing.

From those trapped in the circle a man rises. The banshee pauses in her scream, replacing it with the scream of a woman. A woman whose world is falling to its knees. The man faces their leader. Challenges him. Their leader laughs. Chaos resumes. The banshee screams.

They won’t last much longer. They can barely breath before the next onslaught. The end is approaching. After all these years. Finally.

The doors to the distillery fly open, sparks raining down on those gathered beneath its roof. Police? No. That was not human strength. Two balls of fire come careering down the length of the building, pausing for no one who does not flee their path. Two go down. Not theirs. Burn alive. The fire spreads out, controlled, circling. Their leader in its midst. Trapped.

Six figures walk in the path the fire cleared. No one moves. No on dares breath. Friend and foe alike hypnotized by the strangers. The new comers. The unknown. Do they come to help. Or to hinder. Friend. Or foe.

Arrow formation. One at the front. Then two. Then three. Black. All dressed in black. The hobbling leader in the circle of fire stares at them. Fear evident in his eyes for the first time in a long, long time. Who are they. Who have they come for.

The man at the arrow tip steps forward. His jeans are black, faded slightly at the knees and torn; his combat boots are worn but sure in their tread; his shirt hangs loosely from his frame, once black now faded to dark grey. The buckles on his jacket glint in the light of the fire before him. There is a tattoo peaking out from his sleeve and another on his neck. Hair ruffled but not unkempt. His eyes shine bright, reflecting the fire.

“Well, well, well,” the man rumbles, his voice low and powerful, commanding attention and instilling fear. Amber eyes fixed on his target. “What have we here?”

“Who are you?” their leader spits, uncertain now. No one had counted on outsiders. No one had expected them. A raven flies above their heads.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the man smirks. The humour does not reach his eyes.

“What do you want?” the other man demands, trying not to lose face despite the terror evident in his eyes. “In case it escaped your notice we are in the middle of something here.”

“Yes, I see that…” the man muses. “As to your question, it matters not what I _want_ … But what I am going to _do_ ,” he smirks again as the fire around the older man moves backwards, encasing them both rather than separating them. The man’s companions spread out, lining the circle. “You see… this is not your territory,” he explains.

“It’s not your either,” the older man spits out.

“No it is not, but I am not trying to claim it,” the man continues.

“Why do you care? Why are you here?”

“Boredom,” the man shrugs, loose limbed.

“Boredom?” their leader frowns.

“Yes,” the man gleams. Then there are swords in his hands, pulled from the bracket on his back. He falls into a crouch. “Boredom,” he repeats before launching himself at the wolf.


	2. The Return

    

    

    

_[Stiles Stilinski](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/142958764093/stiles-stilinski-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Return**

The decrepit building stood several miles off the beaten track, no remnants of a road or even trail leading towards it. Weeds and vines had engulfed it, pushing out the windowpanes and cloaking the bricks in greenery. Around the door, the vines had been hacked away to gain entry, gnarled stumps still leaking sap. In the doorway a black haired woman was torn between weariness and frustration.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked once again.

A few meters away, a man was hauling baggage into the open trunk of a Defender, sweat gathering at the base of his skull and dripping down the length of his spine. He did not acknowledge her question, instead asking her to pass the tarpaulin so he could cover the trunk. With a sigh, she rolled against the doorframe and headed back inside the building, wondering, not for the first time, why they did not simply have at least one hard top.

“I’m serious,” she grumbled as she came back out, tarpaulin in hand and helped him strap everything down securely. “ _Beacon Hills_? Of all the places in the state of California you think _that_ is the place to be now? Do you have any _idea_ the amount of shit that faces us if we go back there?”

“Have you seen Hugo’s stiletto daggers? I could have sworn I put them beside the dirk,” the man muttered. “And tell Renn to stop letting off grenades so close to us, they’re making a shit ton of noise and are going to attract people if she’s not careful,” he barked, entirely ignoring everything his companion had said.

“Stiles I am _talking_ to you,” she growled, yanking unnecessarily hard on a strap.

He paused, turning to level the woman with a glare. “Need I remind you that when you joined us, you accepted _me_ as your leader. I have made the decision,” he stated icily.

“And as your second in command, I’m telling you it’s a stupid ass decision,” she huffed, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

“For god’s sake, Renn is my second in command and you need to accept that,” he barked, tired of rehashing such an old argument.

“Renn is seventeen Stiles, she doesn’t know anything.”

“I seem to recall you and I knowing quite a lot at that age,” Stiles responded. “Pack your things Allison: we leave at dusk.”

∞

There was an air of discomfort in the Wrangler as they headed northwards on the I-5. Allison was slouched on the bench in the back, sharpening her knives and ignoring the occasional bubble of conversation from the front, Stiles was staring blankly at the road, trying to focus solely on driving and not what might lie at the end of this particular journey and Renn was sitting in the front passenger seat, occasionally fiddling with the dials on the radio and bobbing her blonde picky-cut hair along to whatever old rock song was playing. Allison was semi convinced Stiles and Renn knew a secret radio wave that only played songs from before any of them were born.

Glancing up into the rearview mirror occasionally, Allison could make out the Defender with the rest of their ragtag pack and their gear in it a few cars behind them. She wondered if Jackson had clocked on to their destination yet.

“So what’s the deal?” Renn eventually broke the lull in her and Stiles’ normally avid conversation. “This place we’re heading, kind of seems like you don’t really want to be going there?” She didn’t phrase it has a question but both Stiles and Allison could hear it in the intonation of her voice.

“We’re just passing through,” Stiles murmured, barely audible over the rumble of the Jeep and the constant rush of wind through their hair. “I was thinking we could go up to Oregon, haven’t been up there for a while,” he carried on, tactfully fending off Renn’s question.

“Yeah but there’s a thousand small towns between here and the border for us to break the journey in,” she pointed out, clearly not feeling in the mood for settling with Stiles’ dismissal. “Why this particular town?”

“Because Stiles is a fucking idiot,” Allison snorted, breaking her three-hour silence. “And is clearly looking for a confrontation.”

“Well it has been pretty quiet,” Renn mused after a moment. “We haven’t had anything serious since the harpies down in Yosemite. We might get rusty.” Allison rolled her eyes, deciding not to point out that that was not the sort of confrontation she had been talking about. Stiles said nothing.

∞

The Wrangler pulled into the gas station just before dawn, with the Defender on its tail. They were just under ten miles from their destination and the tension in the Jeep was becoming unbearable. Stiles instantly vanished inside to prepay for their gas, Renn swift on his heels, no doubt in search of Reese’s and Allison got out to stretch her legs and greet the Defender.

“About time, we’re almost out of gas,” Logan grumbled as he climbs out the drivers seat and grabbed a gas pump. The two redheads in the car followed him out and nod to Allison before heading inside, also no doubt in search of snacks, seemingly in the midst of an argument about whether spears or daggers were a better weapon in close combat.

“You know where we are right, Ali?” a voice grumbled behind her. Jackson was leaning against the Defender looking supremely pissed off and a little bit terrified. She nodded. “You already knew where we were heading, didn’t you?” he accused but with no malice in his tone. Just resignation. She nodded again. “What the fuck is he thinking?” Jackson slouched, banging his head against the cool black metal.

“He’s not,” she snorted, grabbing the pump for the Jeep when Stiles waved to her from inside the building. “He’s barely said a word the entire trip up, won’t even talk to Renn about it. I have no idea what’s going through his head, cause he clearly doesn’t really _want_ to be going back.”

“If I die there, I swear I’ll never forgive him,” Jackson grumbled just as the rest of the pack come out of the store, arms laden with food. “Someone had better have bought me a granola bar,” he muttered darkly, heading over to them and groaning loudly when Carmen laughed in his face at his request.

The rest of the drive is completely silent; Renn did not even turn the radio back on, clearly sensing the apprehension from the other two in the Jeep. When the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign came into view, Stiles didn’t even flinch. When the road curved into the preserve though, his grip on the wheel tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white. Allison’s fingers rested absentmindedly on the knife belt around her hips and she sat up ramrod straight as the sun crept over the horizon.

Not a human soul was awake in the sleepy Northern Californian town. But neither, it seems, were the animals. The preserve had a deadly hush falling over it, no birds calling to great the sun, no deer scurrying further into its depth away from the humans that entered their domain when the day is light. Nothing.

Allison almost drew her bow when the sound of an engine rumbled in the distance but it was only an early morning commuter, clutching a coffee cup and trying not to yawn as she drove out of the town. She didn’t give the Jeep or Defender a second glance.

Their pack was used to causing a slight disturbance wherever they ended up, there were too many supernaturals amongst them for it to go unnoticed by nature itself. But this deathly silence was not something any of them had seen in a long time. Allison had last seen it in South France, when she happened upon a town that was on the brink of destruction because two wolf packs were fighting over the territory. Stiles had last experienced it in Norway, when a feral omega wolf slaughtered an entire village. For Renn it was new.

A ringtone broke the eerie silence, the generic tune almost mocking. “Hugo?” Allison said by way of greeting, glancing into the rearview again to see the Defender edging along quietly behind them, the red head in the passenger seat holding a phone to his ear.

“Logan doesn’t like it,” he responded. “None of us do.”

“Neither do I,” she confessed. “Make sure you keep together and stick with the Jeep,” she ordered. “Keep your eyes and ears peeled and don’t do anything sudden.”

Eventually the two vehicles made it out the other side of the preserve and the air around them seemed to relax. The bustle of a town waking up replaced the deadening silence and the sunlight turned warm rather than ghostly. Allison heard Hugo sigh down the phones they both still had connected to their ears.

“Where are we heading?” she asked Stiles.

“There’s an abandoned house about a mile out the other side of town,” he replied.

“Not the-”

“No. There’s more than one derelict building in the woods here Allison,” he snapped, turning onto the main street. In a way it was almost as spooky as the drive through the preserve. Nothing had changed in the years since either of them were last here. The café still sat on the corner, the awning faded but still recognizably red and yellow; the library with its tacky slogans printed on the glass of the windows; the ice-cream parlour with it’s chipped yellow paint; the grocery store where only the rich could afford to shop and the supermarket just along from it. It was all the same.

It felt like an age before they pulled out of the town again and headed into the much younger coppice on the other side. The air of foreboding was barely present there but Allison remained on high alter. Eventually, Stiles turned the Jeep off the road and down a barely recognizable trail into the woods, pulling up in front of a decrepit wooden house that looked like it had not seen a human in well over a decade. Getting out and scouting the place, she spotted no discernable damage anywhere. It was like the owners had just up and left one day and never come back.

“How do you find these places?” Carmen snorted as she sauntered in, a bag slung over her shoulder. Stiles just tapped his nose and she rolled her eyes before heading upstairs in search of the most comfortable bed that didn’t have animals living in it.

“We could just use motels,” Hugo grumbled.

“Too easy to track, too hard to defend,” Stiles retorted as always.

“Electricity’s a bust,” Logan declared from the basement.

“Would have been a miracle if it wasn’t,” the younger redhead replied. “Now get your ass up here so I can get you naked,” he grinned, receiving a whack on the back of the head from Jackson. Logan appeared a second later and slung the redhead over his shoulders before grabbing a bag and marching with him upstairs. Hugo made a point of admiring his ass. Jackson threw a shoe at them.

“So you going to tell us why the fuck you thought coming back here was a good idea,” Jackson eventually bit out, looking more than pissed and turning on Stiles.

“We’ll only be here a day or two,” Stiles dismissed.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Hey Stiles,” Renn called from the kitchen. “Can I go scout the place? There has to be something causing that- _feeling_ in the preserve.”

“Take Carmen with you,” he ordered. “Don’t split up.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she saluted before running up the stairs to find Carmen.

“I don’t like it,” Allison declared, pulling out her flint knapping kit and laying it out carefully.

“Neither do I,” Jackson agreed. Stiles did not say a word.

∞

“Well there doesn’t appear to be much out there,” Renn stated as she and Carmen came sauntering back into the house. “There aren’t any humans in the preserve but the animals seem normal, if a little more tetchy than most. There’s definitely a pack in town but their scent is everywhere, so tracking them down might be an issue unless they find us first – you’ve warded the place right,” she asked Stiles, who just gave her a look. “Yeah, obviously, dumb question. Anyway, we couldn’t find anything particularly suspicious but we’ll go again at dusk,” she rambled and _god_ she could be Stiles’ sister. Sometimes she reminded Allison more of the Stiles from her childhood than the real Stiles did.

“Okay,” Stiles nodded. “Keep alert anyway.”

“Will do.”

The rest of the day passed by with most of the pack taking turns to keep watch in pairs and sleeping. Allison created thirty new arrowheads – a record – because she could not seem to fall asleep this close to the town; Jackson spent most of the day brooding or wrestling with Logan, when the latter finally emerged from the bedroom he and Hugo had claimed and Stiles, well, Stiles wondered off into the woods. Allison could tell Jackson was keeping an ear out for him but it made her uneasy all the same. It was nothing new. It was just where they were.

When Renn and Carmen went out for another scout at dusk, the tension in the house thickened. They were all waiting for something. Something that caused the eeriness in the preserve that morning. Something that would rise up from the town and remind them of a past three of them would rather forget.

∞

“There’s a- There’s a wolf pack,” Renn gasped, tumbling to the floor in the sitting room as the entire pack sprung to their feet. Carmen came in panting behind her. “There’s two of them – huge. Fighting. Fighting in an old distillery,” she gasped. “You can smell the blood from miles away,” she wrinkled her nose.

“There’s more than just wolves there too,” Carmen added on, catching her breath quickly. “Things I’ve never seen before, that for sure.”

“The trespassing pack is completely outnumbering the others,” Renn finally informed them. “I’m not sure how much longer they’ll last.”

The silence that fell across the room was almost as deadening as the silence from the preserve that morning. All eyes were traced on Stiles as they awaited his orders. Four of them had no idea what was at stake. Three of them did.

The trespassing pack was winning. Which meant the original pack, the _Beacon Hills_ pack… was losing. Allison felt sick to her stomach and, across from her, Jackson had gone horrendously pale. Stiles’ face was as blank as it always was these days. Unreadable.

“Numbers?” he asked at last.

“Less than twenty in the defending pack and well over thirty in the trespassing pack,” Carmen stated. “No humans.”

“But not all wolves?” Stiles asked.

“All in the trespassing pack, not all in the defending pack, as far as we could tell.”

Normally, when they were passing through a place, Stiles would set up a meeting with whatever supernatural creatures lived there, ask them for passage through their territory and then stay clear of them. Occasionally they would happen across a brawl and intervene and even more occasionally, they would come across what Stiles deemed a ‘bad pack’. The only times they got involved where when humans were in the mix, undefended. Or when one of the said ‘bad packs’ was getting too strong.

Hugo liked to refer to them as the Californian Supernatural FBI. Stiles tended to throw things at him when he did.

No matter the circumstances though, Stiles was always the one that made the call. Right now, Allison had no idea which call she was hoping he would make.

“Get your things,” he stated at last. “Lets kick some ass.”


	3. The Reencounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will not always be this fast but apparently I'm on a roll.

    

    

    

_[Derek Hale](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/142958842868/derek-hale-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Reencounter**

“Boredom?” the sniveling man frowned.

“Yes,” Stiles responded, grabbing the twin swords from the brace on his back and falling gracefully into a crouch. “Boredom,” he grinned ominously before launching himself at the wolf. The man was older than him by far, in his late fifties. But he was not the leader of such a large and dangerous pack for nothing. He was agile, using Stiles’ speed against him. His claws scratching at his thighs more than once but never piercing the skin.

Stiles did not know how long they fought, didn't seem to have a concept of time. Just move. Move. Move. Focus on the target. Nothing existed but for the target. Flipping back onto his feet as the man dodged him once more, Stiles found himself landing with one foot on the man’s chest, pushing him to his knees and swinging the swords around and down. Slicing his head from his neck. A raven squawked. A banshee screamed.

In the hush that followed, Stiles turned to the gathered packs. Not looking at any person in particular and addressing them as a whole. “You can stay and we will kill you, or you can run,” he informed them. Several of the trespassing pack whimpered and fled with their tails between their legs. But more stayed. Growling and spitting in their direction. Wanting revenge for their leader.

It barely took a second for the first wolf to jump, launching himself at Allison. It ended up dead on the floor with an arrow in its heart. After that more sprung forward, falling at their feet with ease, speared, slashed, shot. The trespassers kept coming until there was less than a dozen left.

“You chose to stay,” Stiles shrugged. “So you will die.”

They fall without much fight.

∞

From the debris and silence that succeeded the fight, bodies shifted and moveed, gathering together slowly before grabbing others and searching for more. The defending pack. Stiles watched as they reassembled, turning over bodies to see if they had lost anyone. A woman with blonde curls was crouching over a pale face man, trying to coax him back to consciousness. A heart beat. Not dead. An older woman with brown hair tumbling from its up-do was fussing with a tanned man, who winced in agony every time she tried to readjust his already healing leg. A dark skinned man had picked up a limp girl, a katana falling from her hand. A faint heartbeat. Almost dead. A girl with yellow eyes was tugging frantically at a body to get to whoever was beneath it. Another faint heartbeat. But not dead. The banshee was sobbing uncontrollably, exhausted from the screams and overcome by the scent of death in the air. A man with a crooked jaw was rocking her slightly. An older man was helping another to his feet. One sat amongst the bodies staring at them.

Stiles did not look his way.

Eventually the banshee inhaled deeply and lifted an arm, pointing at them. The man with the crooked jaw turned and his red eyes widened. For a moment, nothing moved. Then the man slowly rose to his feet, the banshee standing behind him.

“Stiles,” he whispered into the silence just as the early morning sun peaked through the remaining shards of glass in the windows.

“Alpha McCall,” Stiles nodded slowly, his tone low and respectful. But distant. Someone stepped up behind him and Scott’s eyes widened further.

“Allison?”

“Scott,” she nodded, a little more approachable but still distant.

The raven flew down, twirling and disfiguring in the air, wrapping itself in a cloak of inky mist before it dispersed to reveal a petite woman crouching on the ground. She rose slowly, her eyes fixed on Scott, and rested a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Scott stared at her in shock, unable to process what his eyes had just witnessed. “Alpha McCall,” she crooned.

“Stiles,” a woman whispered behind them. The older woman, with the hair falling from its up-do. She was helping the tanned man stand precariously on his injured leg. Her eyes were glowing golden as she stared at him. He nodded to her. “What-” was all she could choke out.

“Alpha McCall, we come to request permission to cross your territory,” Stiles stated, turning his eyes back to Scott who was still staring at them in disbelief. “We will only be a day, two at max.”

“What-” Scott begun, almost an imitation of his mother.

“This is my second, Renna Greenwood, my third you know – Allison Argent-” someone choked on air at the name, “and the rest, Carmen Stone, Logan Parker, Jackson Whittemore and Hugo Rivers,” Stiles carried on as if he had not spoken.

“I don’t understand,” Scott finally managed to say. “What _are_ you?”

“We’re Valravn of course,” Renn snorted. “Well, four of us are. Ali’s human and Jacks and Logan are wolves.”

“Valravn?” the banshee repeated, rolling the word on her tongue. Scott turned to look at her, their eyes conversing without the need for words. “The raven people,” she said at last.

“Ravens?” Scott repeated, looking back towards Stiles. “Oh. That makes sense,” he side-eyes Renn. “Well it doesn’t but none of this fucking does.”

“Scott, we need to get Deaton and Kira needs to go to the hospital, she’s losing too much blood,” the blonde woman stated, stroking her fingers through the pale faced boy’s hair.

“Right. Yes,” Scott snapped. “Mum, Boyd, you take Kira to the hospital. Erica can you lift Isaac? And Cora- where’s Liam?”

“Here, he’s barely breathing,” Cora ground out, still trying to get the unconscious boy on the floor to wake up. “Scott we need Deaton now,” she insisted.

“Can we take them to him? I don’t particularly want to stay here too long,” Scott asked, looking around at the graveyard of bodies and reaching out seemingly absentmindedly towards the banshee. He squeezed her hand before going over to help Erica pick up Isaac as two men headed over to Cora and Liam.

Stiles watched as Boyd followed Melissa out of the distillery with Kira in his arms, as Erica and Scott manhandled an unconscious Isaac out the door as well. The two men carrying Liam paused in the doorway as the older one looks back over his shoulder, unbelievingly, at Allison. Her face remained blank. Like it had been for years.

The man who had had a broken leg not minutes before hand, hobbleed over to the banshee and wrapped a protective arm around her, leading her out after the others. She stared at Stiles the whole way. Eventually Stiles and his group were left alone. Alone, that is, except for the one remaining wolf still sitting on the floor, not moving except to keep his eyes trained on Stiles.

“Get up Derek,” Stiles snarled. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

The wolf did not move for almost five minutes, a silent staring contest between him and the man who had rescued his pack. Between him and the man who had broken his heart. Then Derek looked away, got up slowly and headed outside. Not even glancing over his shoulder as he went.

Renn wouldn’t have noticed had her hand not still been resting on Stiles’ should, but once the last wolf left the distillery and the sound of engines started up, he slumped a little, the fight draining out of him. She squeezed his shoulder gently before turning to check on the gash Logan had acquired during their seemingly brief fight.

∞

They sent Danny of course. Easy-going, carefree Danny. He turned up at the abandoned house they were occupying just after midday, his leg fully healed and an easy smile on his face. Stiles just raised an eyebrow and invited him in, showing him into the kitchen where Logan and Hugo were preparing lunch as everyone woke up after their morning dose.

“Everyone, this is Danny,” Stiles introduced them again and they grabbed a sandwich each before Stiles led him out the back onto the crumbling porch. “What can I do for you Danny?” he asked politely.

“Well for one, you can tell me if you can do that freaky bird things,” he waved at the house where Renn was and broke off when she yelled back _‘its not freaky, its awesome_ ’, “and for two, you can tell me where the hell you’ve been for the past seven years,” he snorted.

“Well as to the first one – yes, I can, all Valravn can just not all of us choose to fight in that form. No, I will not show you,” he forestalled Danny’s next question. “And as for the second… I’ve been everywhere,” he shrugged. “Picked up Jackson and Hugo in England, Allison in France, Logan in South America, Carmen in Ireland… We’ve been heading North for about a month now, heading up through California. We’re planning on heading to Oregon next,” he supplied.

“So you’re leaving,” Danny stated.

“Of course,” Stiles inclined his head.

“And you were serious about just staying for the day?” he repeated.

“We’ll be out of here as soon as the mess at the distillery is cleaned up and we’re all well rested,” he shrugged again. “We’ll be as quick as possible, if that’s your concern,” he added.

“Not at all,” Danny shook his head. “In that case, I better let Scott and Lydia know we’re doing the barbeque tonight then.”

“The what?” Stiles frowned.

“Well we’re not just going to let you pass through town without a proper welcome,” Danny snorted. “We’re werewolves Stiles, not savages.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Stiles argued, doing his best to control his heart rate but by Danny’s amused face he was not sure he succeeded. Really. Meeting them had been bad enough. Spending an entire evening with them would be torture.

“Tough luck, buddy, the pack insists,” Danny smirked.

Stiles sighed. This was going to be hell. “Renn I know you are hiding behind the door with Hugo,” he grumbled. “Just come out and stop being creepy. You know Danny’s a wolf, he can hear you.” Said door slammed open as Renn and Hugo stumbled out, giggling like high-schoolers.

“Someone said barbeque… Please can we have barbeque Stiles, please, we haven’t had anything but sandwiches in _weeks_ ,” Renn beseeched.

“Hey! What’s wrong with our sandwiches?” Hugo frowned.

“Nothing, nothing, I just need meat,” Renn stated, making puppy dog eyes at Stiles.

“See Stiles, it won’t be so bad,” Danny smirked again, clearly trying to refrain from laughing at them.

“ _Fine_. You’re in luck. The McCall Pack has invited us over for a barbeque this evening,” Stiles grimaced. Better get it over and done with as soon as possible. “We’ll bring desert,” he informed Danny.

“Prefect! I’ll see you later then! 6 o’clock,” he stood up to leave but just before he got out the door, Stiles stopped him.

“Uh… where?” he frowned.

“The Hale House obviously,” Danny chuckled, like it should have been oblivious. Which it really, really was _not_. Because the last time Stiles was in Beacon Hills, the Hale House was a burnt out shell.

∞

Renn and Logan glared daggers at each other, both trying to take over the small space of the derelict kitchen. Hugo was watching them in amusement, heating water to clean their stuff with. The camping kit they carried around with them everywhere served as their kitchen most of the time and Logan was technically the one in charge of it. However, Renn seemed to have decided that she wanted to honour their hosts with her own concoction of deserts, disagreeing entirely with Logan about what was and what was not acceptable to bring to a barbeque.

“Come on Logan,” she groaned. “Why have to bring them something exciting, something that will amaze them!” she insisted.

“Unless you’re about to pull a fully functioning oven out of those skinny jeans, we’re just going to have to make do,” he growled.

“But we can’t just bring _fruit salad_ ,” Renn whined, clearly distressed.

“Who’s making fruit salad?” Allison interrupted, stepping into the kitchen and dumping two decent sized rabbits on the table before going to wash her hands in the water that was miraculously – if extremely coldly – coming from the tap.

“No one, because it’s lame,” Renn snorted. “Why’d you get rabbits?”

“Uh.., for dinner?” Allison frowned.

“But we’re going for a _barbeque_.”

“We’re going for a what now?” Jackson’s head appeared in the doorway, carrying another, smaller rabbit.

“We’ve been invited to have a barbeque with the McCall Pack this evening,” Stiles’ low voice sounded behind them, making Jackson spin around, still not used to Stiles being able to sneak up on him even after all these years.

“We’re what?”

“A barbeque. With the McCall Pack,” Stiles repeated slowly.

“Absolutely not,” Jackson shook his head adamantly as Allison stared at Stiles as if he had lost his mind. “No. No way. Not happening.”

“Danny invited us,” Stiles conceded.

“Little fucks, no one can say no to Danny,” Jackson fumed. “But that still doesn’t mean I’m going.”

“What the deal with you guys anyway?” Hugo frowned. “I take it you know this Pack but you seem kind of reluctant to see them. They seemed nice enough when we met them – if a little stunned.”

“What our dear Alpha here has failed to tell you,” Jackson snapped, shooting a glare at Stiles, who said nothing, knowing Jackson was really just looking for consent to continue. “Is that this town just so happens to be our home town,” he gestured between him and Stiles. “Allison lived here for a while too when we were at high school,” Jackson explained.

“I thought you met Jackson in London?” Carmen appeared, red-hair flying lose from its earlier braids and clouding around her face in soft curls.

“I _found_ Jackson in London,” Stiles corrected. “I’ve known him my whole life.” Only Jackson, Allison and Renn don’t appear surprised by this information. “But none of that matters anymore and yes, Jackson, you _are_ coming to this barbeque. You’re parents moved you away from here,” Stiles added on, the ‘Allison and I _chose_ to leave’ left silent. Jackson grunted and the room fell silent for a minute before Logan broke it, heading straight for the heart of the issue as usual.

“They were your pack, weren’t they,” he said and phrased it like a question but making clear it was a statement instead. Stiles said nothing, Jackson shrugged and Allison just walked out of the kitchen. Logan nodded, turning back down to look at the supplies he and Hugo had bought from the store early. “Renn, if you want we could make a pie and cook it there, I’m sure they have an oven and we could always say we just wanted to serve it warm and fresh,” he compromised. Renn gave Stiles an odd look before turning around and eagerly discussing pie options with Logan.

∞

“I’m not going,” Allison said when Stiles found her out the back. “You can’t make me.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“You don’t understand Stiles, _my father will be there_ ,” she turned to him, eyes pleading in a way he had not seen for a long time.

“And my father won’t,” he replied smoothly and she winced. “I won’t make you come with us if you are set against it but I would really like you to,” he confessed. “I’m not sure I can do it without you.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” she whimpered.

“I know,” he sighed, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his chest. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughtsies, thoughtsies?


	4. The Barbeque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control.

    

    

    

_[Allison Argent](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/142981894587/allison-argent-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Barbeque**

The Wrangler was unusually quiet as it rolled up to the Hale House, Renn having foregone her habitual seat in the front and hopped in the back instead. Allison had climbed into Renn’s seat without a word, face steely and unapproachable. As they had turned into the preserve however, her hand had snuck across the centre console and grabbed Stiles’ in a vice-like grip. He had only squeezed back just as hard, eyes never leaving the tire-worn trail.

When the house came into view, Stiles’ knuckles turned white on the wheel once again. It was beautiful, three stories with a wide front veranda and flowers spilling from the pots on the windowsills. Stiles had not had a clue what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. He could hear a couple of people inside the house but the majority seemed to be out the back.

“Stiles,” Allison gasped when he let go of her hand to climb out the Jeep. He came around the front as the Defender pulled in behind them and Renn jumped out the greet them. “Stiles I-” Allison choked out, looking desperately pale and entirely terrified. Over by the Defender, Renn and Hugo ere arguing about who should carry the pie whilst Logan shot concerned glances towards Stiles and Allison. Jackson was leaning against the Defender looking unbelievable pissed but Stiles knew its just a front for how nervous he was.

Stiles took Allison’s hand again, helping her from the Jeep and pulling her into a tight but brief hug before nodding his head to the rest of them and heading towards the house, his heart rate carefully monitored. He knocked out of politeness and Scott answered the door almost instantly, as if he had been waiting on the other side. Which, come to think of it, he probably had been.

“Alpha Stilinski,” was the first thing Scott said, bowing his head a little. The action and words seeming so foreign coming from Scott that Stiles had to force himself not to wince.

“Alpha McCall,” he responded, nodding his own head in respect.

“Come in,” he stepped back and gestured inside. Stiles could not help but suck in a deep breath and squeeze Allison’s hand again before stepping into the Hale House for the first time in almost a decade. It was nothing like his memories of course, there was no blackened and charred wood, no dilapidated staircase or doors hanging from hinges… just bright, open spaces filled with sunlight and the promise of laugher.

Stiles almost stepped right back out the door. Allison shoved him forward.

“I think everyone’s out the back,” Scott rambled. “There’s a few more to arrive but the grill’s already on, make yourselves comfortable,” he instructed, leading them onto the back porch that over looked the semi-tamed garden. “Everyone’s still a bit tired from last night,” Scott carried on, eyes darting all over the place but never settling on anyone. “Isaac’s been instructed to take it easy so don’t let him talk you into a game of chase or anything and watch out for Sammy, he has a habit of trying to nick things from your pockets. Watch where you’re going Lucy!” he bellowed into the garden as a tiny girl carrierd into a sturdy pair of legs and found herself suddenly on her buttocks. “Anyway, there’s drinks in the coolers on the porch, spiked for werewolves in the green one and normal in the blue – I’m sorry I have no idea what uh, you guys drink,” he jerked his hand awkwardly at Stiles’ group.

“I don’t,” Stiles supplied. “But normal is find for the rest.”

“Oh… okay,” Scott nodded. “Well, uh, I better go check Lyds is alright,” he pointed over his shoulder, walking backwards into the house as if he could not get away from them fast enough.

“Wait, Mr McCall,” Renn practically squealed. “We brought pie,” she shoved the dish out in front of her. “It’s not cooked but that just means we can have it super fresh from the oven here!”

“Uh… thanks,” Scott nodded graciously, taking the proffered dish. “And, uh, you can call me Scott. Mr McCall is just weird,” he grimaced.

“Right-o boss,” Renn saluted, already heading out the back and towards the coolers.

“Don’t even think about it Greenwood,” Stiles barked.

“Chill out, I’m just grabbing a soda,” she rolled her eyes.

“So you made it,” a voice sounds over Stiles shoulder. “All of you… I’m impressed,” Danny chuckled. “You want help with the introductions?” Stiles nodded gratefully but almost regreted it when Danny bellowed over the garden to get everyone’s attention and all of a sudden almost two dozen sets of eyes were traced on them.

“Subtle,” he muttered under his breath and could have sworn he saw Isaac smirking from the confines of his deck chair.

“People, for those of you who don’t already know, this is Stiles,” he took Stiles’ hand and waved it in the air earning himself a glare as Isaac’s smirk grew wider. “This lovely lady is Renn, most of you know this jackass,” he ruffled Jackson’s hair from where Jackson was practically hiding behind a pillar, making the wolf flush red. “This is Hugo and Logan and I fully expect the X-Men chokes to come out in full… This beauty is the lovely Allison and Stiles how the hell did you collect some many attractive people, I believe this beautiful woman is called Carmen,” Danny grinned, kissing her knuckles.

“Cut it out,” a voice hollered and Stiles caught a guy smirking and giving Danny bedroom eyes from across the garden. He looked vaguely familiar, probably someone from high school.

“That charming gentleman is Mason,” Danny supplied and Mason gave a little wave. “The shit sitting next to him is Liam, who is still recovering from last night and apparently we’re not allowed to jump on him. The superhot one behind them is Brett. On the grill you have Chris, Jordan and Carrie. Isaac is the prick on the deck chair that we’re also not allowed to play with-”

“You bet your ass, you’re not,” Mason snorted.

“He is being tended to ever so diligently by the lovely Louisa,” Danny carried on, ignoring Mason save for a vaguely rude hand gesture. “To whom that trouble maker-” he gestured to the boy trying to pinch a roll from the table. “And this cutie pie…” he picked the little girl who had run into Boyd’s legs up. “Belong to.

“The hunky dude is Boyd and the blonde who looks like she wants to run most of you over is his wife Erica and _somewhere_ is their incredibly _annoying_ little twerp,” Danny laughs, snatching a little boy who had been hiding behind the same pillar Jackson had been. The boy squealed in delight as Danny slung him upside-down. “This is Noah,” he finished with a flourish. “Good luck remembering everyone’s name, we’ll be incredibly offended if you don’t,” he teased, wiggling Noah around a bit.

“Danny! Danny!” a voice shrieked from inside before another little body came hurling out. “My turn! My turn!” she squealed, making grabby hands for Danny who was trying to righten Noah again.

“Nope, no fun for Flo, because Flo was late,” Danny teased.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she protested, face changing from ecstatic to on the verge of tears in a heartbeat. Stiles’ could not stop staring at her though. “I was all ready on time but the grown ups were shouting and wouldn’t _leave_ ,” she promised, looking pleadingly at Danny with eyes that were making Stiles feel faint. Iridescent and luminous. Like all the colours of the wind had been trapped in those orbs.

Derek’s eyes.

“He’s not coming,” a woman barked inside. “He point blank refused. Fucking tit,” she hissed.

“Uh oh… mummy said a naught word,” the little girl’s eyes grew wide.

“I’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” a deeper voice replied. Scott.

“Much use it’ll do, they’ll be gone by then,” the woman snorted and Stiles could hear footfalls before the rather terrifying figure of Cora Hale emerged in the doorway. “Stiles,” she nodded sharply in greeting. A normal and strangely comforting gesture. “Florence it’s rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations,” she told her daughter.

“Sorry mummy,” Florence sighed. “Please tell Danny it wasn’t my fault we were late! He won’t spin me upside-down!”

“Get someone else to do it honey, can’t you see Danny’s playing with Noah,” she sighed. Florence looked like she was about to cry again but then her sharp and uncanny eyes scanned the crowd of people that were mulling around in the garden. Finally, they settled on Stiles.

“You,” she declared. “Spin me around.”

“Flo, that’s rude. Ask him nicely,” Danny urged. “Or better yet, why don’t you ask one of the adults you actually know?”

“If he can’t spin me round good then he’s not welcome here,” she informed Danny before lifting her arms demandingly at Stiles.

“You could still ask nicely,” Danny sighed.

“Please can you spin me around,” Florence smiled sweetly and entirely falsely. Stiles succumbed to her anyway, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder as he climbed down the steps onto the lawn. “This is not spinning,” she huffed indignantly.

“Patience young Padawan,” Stiles responded.

“Ooh, you made a Star Wars reference!” she squealed in delight. “Now spin me round!”

“As you wish,” Stiles chuckled before spinning lightly on his feet, his raven orientation and balance keeping him from falling as he spun faster and faster. Florence looked positively delighted as he held her out and the world rushed by. Her eyes glowed yellow and he flashed his purple one’s back, making hers widen in surprise. When they finally stopped, someone let out a low whistle and Stiles realised they had an awful lot of eyes trained on them.

“I like you,” Florence declared when he put her down. “What are you?”

“I’m a Valravn, a raven shifter,” he smiled slightly as the attention faded from them to where Brett had just upended a bucket of ice water over Isaac’s head and Louisa was trying to keep him from getting up and attacking him.

“Can you fly?” she demanded.

“Yes.”

“Can you take me with you?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea…” he mused.

“That’s not a no.”

“No, its not.”

“Do you have wings?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see them?”

“Um… maybe another time,” Stiles hedged, glancing around at the garden full of people, some of whom would probably freak if he spread his wings here.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, looking back down at her and holding out his pinky. She took it with a grin, muttering something about no take-backs before darting off to harass the woman named Carrie who was buttering the rolls.

Stiles was barely alone for a second before someone punches him solidly on the arm. Spinning around he caught Erica glaring at him. “ _That_ ,” she informed him. “Is for being a jerk.” And then his arms were full and he was almost suffocated by blonde curls.

“I missed you too, Catwoman,” he whispered into her hair.

“You’re a dick Batman,” she grumbled, squeezing him a little tighter. “Or maybe I should call you Rachel Roth now,” she smirked.

“Only if you want me to call you Wolverine,” he laughed.

“Hmm… I think we’ll leave that one to your little friend Logan.”

“He’s a born wolf you know, like it wasn’t even an accident,” he continued talking into her hair. “His parents literally had a baby werewolf and thought, hmmm… we should call him Logan,” he chuckled.

“They’re the best,” she decided.

“Congrats on your own baby-were by the way,” he mumbled.

“Isn’t he the cutest,” she grinned, finally pulling away after one more squeeze. “I wanted to call him Brin but Boyd wouldn’t let me,” she sighed morosely.

“Eh, Noah’s pretty cool too,” he shrugged. “Besides, Brin Boyd…? That’s not so good.”

“Coming from Stiles _Stilinski_ ,” Erica glared.

“Point well made,” he conceded.

“If you’re quite done with him, I wouldn’t mind a word,” a painfully familiar voice interrupted them. Melissa McCall is had not changed in the slightest since Stiles last saw her, she still had the same soft looking hair with not a wisp of grey and the same bright eyes that smiled at his warmly despite the years they had not seen each other.

“Mrs McCall,” he choked out and Erica wisely decided to leave them to it.

“You can call me Melissa, Stiles, everyone else does,” she smiled. “Now do I get a hug too?”

Stiles fell into her arms willingly, her homey scent sending him straight back to his childhood before everything went to shit. The nostalgia almost overwhelmed him and he tucked his face into her neck. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she whispered, stroking his hair. He managed a nod, still uncertain if his voice would hold. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,” she said when he finally pulls away. “I had to finish a shift at the hospital and then check on Kira,” she told him, taking a seat on one of the garden chairs and waving at Stiles to do the same.

“How is she?” Stiles asked, part politeness, party curiosity as he took his own seat.

“She’s fine… kitsunes just take longer to heal than werewolves and those gashes went pretty deep. She lost a lot of blood.”

“Are her and Scott still…” he said before he could bite his tongue. Melissa gave him a strange look.

“Stiles, Scott’s married,” she told him.

“What-” Stiles choked. Scott was _married_. Crooked jawed, puppy eyed, dopey Scott. Was _married_. “To _who_?” he gasped out.

“To Lydia,” Melissa informed him, her frown deepening. Stiles felt like he had been punched in the stomach. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t _know_?” He shook his head vehemently. No he did _not_ know. How could be _possibly_ have known. “Scott said he called you, said you couldn’t make it to the wedding because you had a hoard of harpies on your tail or something,” her frown continued to deepen. “Stiles… when was the last time you spoke to Scott?”

“Um… about half an hour ago?” he winced.

“Stiles,” her tone was warning.

“October 19th 2014,” he bit out, waiting for Melissa’s anger. Instead though, Melissa stood up calmly and disappears into the house, a few seconds later Stiles heard her yelling Scott’s name and winced, wondering what kind of trouble he had just landed the Alpha in.

∞

“This is… strangely okay,” Allison mused, taking the seat Melissa had vacated a few minutes ago. Stiles stared at her. She must be losing her mind. “No really, I mean its not _fun_ ,” she reiterated. “But look, everyone seems… happy,” she frowned slightly, gazing at the combined packs.

Logan was by the grill, chatting about the best cuts of meat for barbequing with Chris Argent, who occasionally shot Allison a glance and a small smile. Both of which she deliberately ignored. Jackson was sitting with Danny and Mason, looking far more relaxed than he had been earlier despite the fact Mason was nibbling on Danny’s ear right in front of him. Renn seemed to be baffling Liam and Brett with her rambling and sporadic thought process and Hugo was playing with Noah whilst chatting to Erica. Carmen of course, had already found herself a worthy opponent in the form of Cora Hale and the two were currently in the midst of a rather intense argument about California’s immigration policy.

“Oh,” was Stiles articulate response.

“They must like the company I guess,” Allison shrugged. “It can get kind of lonely living like we do.”

“Do you regret it? Joining us?” he asked at the wistful tone in her voice.

“Not for second,” she smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? What did you think?


	5. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor panic attack in this chapter, it doesn't really go into much detail but I thought I should mention it.

 

    

    

    

_[Scott McCall](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143031737318/scott-mccall-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Revelation**

Scott was married. Scott and Lydia were married. Scott McCall was married to Lydia Martin. No. Lydia McCall. What. Stiles finally tried to process what Melissa had said. Scott and Lydia. Married. Nothing from the years before Stiles left made that even seem like the vaguest possibility. And that’s when it hit: he didn’t know any of these people. They were all just strangers with familiar faces.

“You know my dad took the bite?” Allison suddenly said and Stiles’ head whipped around to look at Chris Argent, who was loading burgers onto Carrie’s rolls. It was not possible.

“You know Scott and Lydia are married?” he countered and Allison’s jaw dropped before she quickly composes herself, even if she was still looking a little pale.

“You lied,” she retorted.

“What?”

“You said you hadn’t spoken to anyone here since you left.”

“Melissa told me,” he answered, knowing that if he denied her statement she would see the lie on his face. She might not be a supernatural of any kind but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying even without supernatural hearing.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Allison shook her head. “I was talking about Erica.” When Stiles didn’t say anything, she smirked triumphantly. “Did you really expect me not to notice? Come on Stiles… No one just hugs people like that if they haven’t seen them in years!”

“I _haven’t_ seen her in years,” he muttered sullenly. Allison just raised an eyebrow. “Okay fine, I haven’t seen her in years but those years are may be a little less that the years I haven’t seen anyone else, okay?” Another eyebrow. “And I may have kept in contact a little. Nothing major. Just an occasional text of ‘are you still alive’ and arguments about films versus comics,” he grumbled. “Like she didn’t tell me about her and Boyd getting married or having a kid, let alone anyone else getting married.”

“When did you see her?”

“Almost three years ago, I ran into her in Argentina… Or rather, she ran into me. With her car. I think she thought I was a ghost or something, she literally just swerved off the road in my direction. Anyway, she yelled at me for about two hours straight, threw some things at me, demanded I tell her everything, threw some more things at me when I wouldn’t… You know, just the usual catch up,” he shrugged.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Allison frowned.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he confessed.

“Did she know we were coming?”

“She’s the one who told me about the abandoned house we’re staying in,” he admitted. “I didn’t tell her when we were coming – that’s why she’s kind of pissed at me – but I mentioned we might pass through on our way north and was wondering where we could stay. I think the house belonged to her great aunt or something,” he shrugged again.

“You’re a little shit, you know that,” Allison grumbled, jabbing him in the side.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled, squirming out of her reach. They were interrupted a moment later by a slight shadow fall across them.

“Burgers are ready,” Liam snapped, before turning on his heel sharply and walking away. Apparently not everyone was as forgiving as Melissa and Danny. Allison gave him a look, she had left before Liam had arrived and so had only the vaguest idea of who he was. Shrugging once again, Stiles stood up and held a hand out for her.

They headed for the table where the woman called Carrie was dishing people up with rolls and burgers before shooing them onto the next table to get all the fillings. She smiled tentatively when she saw them. “Hi, I’m Carrie,” she greeted them, holding out a hand which both Stiles and Allison shook, introducing themselves. Her smile widened at that, reaching her dark blue eyes as she asked them how they liked their meet cooked.

“Whatever’s most likely to have left overs,” he chuckled.

“Well don’t expect well-done because Chris doesn’t make any anymore,” she laughed, piling two rolls with a burger each. “All the fillings are over there, help yourself,” she nodded at the next table before slapping Danny’s hand as he tried to sneak another burger.

Allison and Stiles filled their burgers with just about everything on the table, relieved for once to not have to worry about where their meals was coming from before turning around to find that their previously occupied seats had been taken.

“You,” a little voice squealed by Stiles’ knees. “Mr Raven-Man, you’re going to come and sit with me,” Florence demanded, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him along to where she had abandoned her burger at a table with Louisa and her two kids. “Sit,” she ordered, point to the seat beside her. Stiles threw a helpless glance over his shoulder at Allison who shrugs and goes to sit with… Isaac. Oh. Okay. He turned his attention back to the little girl beside him.

“These are the best burgers in the world,” she informed him. “Lydia makes the best stuff to put in them. Have you put everything in yours?” she asked.

“I have, everything except tomato sauce because who needs tomato sauce when you have tomatoes?” he chuckled.

“You’re my favourite,” Florence declared. “What’s your name anyways?” she frowned suddenly, as if only just realizing she should probably know that if he was to be her favourite.

“Stiles,” he smiled gentle at her, watching as her eyes went wide and the spoon dropped from her lips.

“You’re a _Stiles_ ,” she whispered almost reverently before spinning around in her chair and searching the crowd for her mother who was sitting a few tables away with Carmen and Erica. “Mummy! Mummy! I found a Stiles! You know, like when Uncle Derek falls asleep on the sofa and sometimes he wakes up shouting and sometimes he’s shouting for Laura and sometimes he’s shouting for a Stiles and you always says he’s just telling the world what he wants and I found one, mummy, I found a Stiles!” she yelled gleefully, her little hands griping the edge of the chair in excitement, completely unaware that all the blood had drained from said Stiles’ face and the looks of horror from several people bearing witness. “Can we take him home, mummy? Uncle Derek will be so excited! And he’ll forgive me for spilling juice on that ugly blue and orange top that he likes! Please, mummy, _please_ ,” she begged. “Mummy…” she repeated, a little slower now, glancing around, a little more uncertain when no one responded.

“No Flo, we can’t take Stiles home,” Cora whispered gently, coming over to her daughter and stoking her hair softly. “Did you put gherkins in your burger? I bet you forgot you silly sausage,” she continued as Stiles stood up abruptly and headed towards the house.

“Did I say something wrong?” Florence asked in a small voice as Stiles disappeared.

“No poppet, Stiles just needed the toilet,” Cora lied, grateful her daughter couldn’t yet pick out the different rhythms of her heartbeat.

“Will he come back?” she asked.

“Maybe if you promise to eat all your lettuce,” Cora smiled. Florence grudgingly complied, staring at the door Stiles had vanished into and waiting for his return.

“Should I go and apologise like I have to when I make Noah cry?” she asked her mum.

“No, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Cora assured her.

“It feels like I have,” Florence muttered, taking an aggressive bite of her burger and spilling tomato sauce all over her fingers. “Ugh, I hate ketchup mum!”

∞

“We’re definitely missing something,” Renn muttered to Hugo as she watched Stiles vanish inside. “You think it’s the same ‘Derek’ who Stiles told to leave back at the distillery?”

“Undoubtedly,” Logan interrupted. “Now stop gossiping like old ladies, if it was important, Stiles would’ve told us.”

“Is it weird, do you think? I mean you said this was his old pack… I can’t imagine not seeing you guys for years and then rocking up one day. It must be weird,” Hugo pondered, stuffing his lettuce back in his roll. “They seem like a nice enough pack and its only a small town, they can’t get that much supernatural shit passing through. Why do you think he left?”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Logan sighed. “Now shut up because half the people in the yard are listing to you,” he grumbled. “Its none of our business.” Hugo turned red as he looked around to see several people cocking an ear in their direction.

“Carmen seems to have taken a shine to the dark haired woman,” Renn murmured, fully aware people were still listening. A couple of meters away, Carmen shot her a furious glare, face turning slightly crimson. Beside her, Cora just raised an eyebrow. Maybe the eyebrow thing was a Beacon Hills thing because she had seen Stiles and Allison do it enough times and now all these people seem to have excellent eyebrow game as well.

“Carmen always likes to bite off more than she can chew,” Logan snorted, making Carmen spit out her drink and resume her glare. Cora chuckled as she handed her a napkin.

∞

It was Allison who found him of course, half way through a panic attack in the downstairs bathroom. She just came in and locked the door behind her, taking his hands and squeezing them, reassuring him, getting him to focus on her breathing. She helped him through it, like she always did, and he ended up sobbing in her arms, like he always did.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't be there. Not with all these people. Not with his past. Coming back was a horrendous mistake. What the hell had he been thinking. No one wanted him here. He didn't want to be here. Why had he come.

“Stiles, stop it,” Allison ordered, pulling back slightly to cup his face. “Give is another half an hour at least and then we can leave. Leave town if possible. You can do this Stiles, he’s not even here. I need you to be strong. For me. Because I can’t do it without you,” she told him again. Merlin knew where she would be without Stiles Stilinski.

“The t-shirt,” he gasped.

“What?”

“He still has that fucking t-shirt,” the whimper that came from him then was barely human as he sunk back into Allison’s waiting arms. Fuck Derek Hale. Just fuck him. “I can’t go out there Ali, I can’t. They all heard. They saw me leave, I thought I was going to collapse then and there,” he sobbed.

“But you didn’t,” she told him, stroking his hair. “You didn’t collapse and you aren’t going to because you are stronger than that Stiles. Besides, who gives a shit what they think? We’ll be out of here by dawn and I swear I won’t ever let you take us back,” she promised.

“What was I _thinking_?”

“I have no idea Stiles, but knowing you it was something important,” she smiled. “Now lets get you up and see whether Renn has managed to get that pie baked shall we?” she urged, standing up herself and reaching for the tissues to hand Stiles. He sat on the toilet seat for a while, trying to compose himself and make it not look like he had been hyperventilating in the bathroom.

He latched on to Allison’s hand the second she opened the door and led them out. Of course, if he had been paying attention, he would have heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hall at the same time. But he hadn’t.

“Oh, sorry,” Scott mumbled awkwardly, eyes instantly latching onto Stiles and Allison’s joined hands. “Um… uh, Renn wanted us to put the pie in the oven,” he stated, unsure what else to say. “Are you alright?” was what comes out of his mouth next and all four people in the hallway winced before Stiles gave him a flat look. “Right, sorry. Um…”

“I hear a congratulations are in order,” Stiles interrupted, saving them from whatever awkward thing was going to come out of Scott’s mouth next. Scott looked momentarily confused before Lydia stepped a little closer to him and understanding dawned on his face, swiftly followed by joy, concern and worry in horrifyingly quick succession. “Don’t worry about it Scott,” Stiles sighed, reading Scott’s trepidation as easily as he had when they were children. “I’m glad you have each other.”

“Uh… thanks, um, you too,” he nodded, waving between him and Allison. She just raised an eyebrow but neither of them said anything. “Right well… I’m going to the kitchen,” he mumbled, stumbling past them and leaving Lydia looking a little stranded.

“The food’s great,” Allison broke the silence, her smile somewhat forced.

“Thanks,” Lydia nodded. “I uh… I better go and make sure Scott doesn’t burn anything,” she finished, nodding again to herself before brushing past them both, making sure not to touch either of them.

“Why didn’t you warn me,” Allison hissed the second Lydia disappears.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he growled back.

“This has got to be the most uncomfortable day of my life,” she decided, dragging Stiles out behind her and heading over to Renn, Hugo and Logan, deliberately ignoring everyone else.

∞

“I kind of feel like we should mingle a little more,” Renn mused as she started her third desert. “I mean what’s the point of having a meal with another pack if we’re just going to sit on our own anyway?”

“Carmen and Jackson are mingling,” Logan pointed out.

“They’re both just looking to get laid,” she snorted. “Looks like Jackson’s well on his way to a threesome with those two,” she giggled, almost dropping ice-cream down her front as she waved her spoon at where Jackson was sitting with Danny and Mason.

“Not likely, you know the only dude Jackson would ever have sex with is Stiles,” Hugo grinned, dodging the hand Logan aimed for the back of his head.

“Ugh, can we _please_ not discuss my sex life here,” Stiles gritted out.

“I wonder what’s so funny,” Renn frowned and Stiles turned to see Danny choking on his drink and Isaac rolling on the floor laughing. Great.

∞

After the sun set it got cold fairly quickly and everyone started heading inside. Allison gave him a look and Stiles took the opportunity to _get out_. He rounded up his pack and told them to make their goodbyes, going in search of their Alpha. He found him in the kitchen with his mum, talking angrily in hushed tones.

“Um…” he coughed, altering them to his presence. “We’re going to be heading off now, thank you for having us,” he winced awkwardly. “Food was great,” he imitated Allison earlier.

“Oh, okay,” Scott nodded, leaving his mum and heading into the living room where everyone else was saying goodbye. Stiles found himself wrapped in another hug from Melissa, who told him firmly that she didn’t want to have to wait another seven years for him to get his ass back here. He didn’t make any promises.

When everyone was just about finished with goodbyes, Florence appeared from wherever she had been occupying herself and paused in the doorway. “Wait, Stiles, are you going?”

“We are munchkin,” he smiled sadly, feeling all his insides rearranging themselves when he looked into her all too familiar eyes. She frowned for a second before launching herself his legs. He chuckled, bending down to pick her up and spin her around briefly.

“Will you carry me outside?” she requested. “So I can wave goodbye?”

“Sure thing trouble,” he grinned, slinging her over his shoulder as several other people started to file out the front of the house. Jackson looked like he was exchanging numbers with Danny, Carmen and Cora were whispering hurriedly to each other and Stiles really _did not_ want to know what was happening there. Logan was shaking hands with Chris and Jordan whilst Hugo was teasing little Lucy beside him. Renn had Brett in a headlock, looking positively gleeful and Stiles had no idea how she made friends so easily. Allison was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, desperately avoiding eye contact with her father who she had managed to evade all evening. Isaac rescued her and she only managed to look a _little_ less uncomfortable.

Rightening Florence as he came out the door, he felt his gut twist as she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck. What he had done to deserve her good opinion he had no idea. He was certain he wasn’t worth it.

“I’m sorry if I upset you Stiles,” Florence murmured, pulling away from his neck and looking him in the eye. Stiles’ heart lurched.

“You didn’t upset me munchkin, I just really needed a wee,” he forced a chuckle. “Sometimes even adults leave it a little late,” he whispered, making her laugh delightedly.

“I’ll see you soon, won’t I?” she demanded as he walks out into the driveway.

“We’ll see,” he smiled but there was little humour behind it.

“You promised one day you would show me your wings,” she declared.

“I did, didn’t I,” he snorted. “Well in that case we’ll _have_ to see each other again.”

“Yessss,” she crowed. “Bye Stiles,” she grinned, leaning forward to rub her nose against his jaw before dropping down to the floor and running over to where her mum was staring at him in shock, sending a little wave over her shoulder.

Someone gasped behind him. “She scent-marked you,” Carrie choked out, her face almost as shocked as Cora’s. “She never scent-marks anyone. Not even _Scott_. Just Cora and Derek,” she gasped, eyes wide and a little fearful.

“And now Stiles apparently,” Danny drawled, coming to stand beside them and smirking a little but even he seemed somewhat thrown. Stiles shrugged the thought off, not _ever_ wanting to go down that road. “I’ll see you round Stiles,” Danny clapped him on the back.

“See you,” he nodded, knowing that he probably never would. “Carrie, it was nice to meet you,” he smiled at her.

“You too Stiles,” she nodded, still staring in wonder at Florence.

Eventually Stiles was back behind the wheel of the Wrangler and Logan had everyone loaded into the Defender. Renn was back in the passenger seat as Allison tried to make herself look busy in the back. “Why did we have to get a fucking open top,” she grumbled when they finally pulled out and headed down the driveway.

“I honestly have no idea,” Stiles sighed, finally able to breath again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come check me out on [tumblr](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/). Also [here's](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/post/117942070731/the-unkindness-of-valravn-for-those-that-would) a visual of Stiles' pack if you're curious.


	6. The Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another little warning for a slight panic attack when Stiles is in the air.

    

    

    

_[Renn Greenwood](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/142971888233/renna-greenwood-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Flight**

By the time they reached the abandoned house, dusk had settled and Stiles was restless. The entire evening he had felt caged in and trapped, surrounded by people he would rather not have seen who evoked memories he would rather have forgotten. Florence’s slip of tongue had hit him far more than he had anticipated the mention of her uncle would. And that scared him.

Cutting off the Wrangler the instant they pulled up in front of the house Stiles jumped out and started to run. No one called after him. The woods were unfamiliar but soothing none the less, they never stayed in one place long enough to become acquainted with their surroundings. The faster he ran, the more the trees blurred together, only his sharp reflexes prevented him from colliding with anything.

The tug came from somewhere just under his last rib, pulling him forward, pulling him upwards. Leaping into the air, Stiles felt the familiar sensation of weightlessness as he twisted, surrounded by the blackness. The world seemed to fall away and no matter how many times he did this, it would never cease to leave him in awe.

Stretching his wings out, Stiles allowed himself a moment to adjust to the much smaller frame of his raven-form, feeling the thrill of no longer being tied to the ground. Flying upwards sharply, Stiles watched the earth fall way beneath him, savoring the peace of the skies as he climbed higher and higher. At times like these, he wished he could stay in flight forever, never having to set foot on the ground again, never having to face the demons that lurk in the shadows, waiting for him to loose focus.

Flying on into the night, Stiles had no direction, no purpose… just the rush of air beneath his wings and the lightness that only came from being free from the constraints of the ground. Stiles did not have to worry about anything up in the sky, his raven-form – whilst intelligent – was unable to process emotions the way a human could. There was no guilt up there. No regrets. Only the constant desire to fly on.

Stiles followed the air streams wherever they chose to take him, eyes fixed on the horizon rather than the ground below him. He found himself soaring across the preserve, slowly coming back to life after the disappearance of the trespassing pack. He spotted the Hale House – the _Pack_ House – amid the trees and heard the distant sound of voices, too far away to be understood. Not that he wanted to listen.

He tracked the river along the edge of town, noticing a new bridge here and a new bench there. He had never seen Beacon Hills from the air before, and found himself trying to relate the maze beneath him to the roads and alleyways he once knew so well.

He could not say how long he flew, only that the caginess from before was slowly falling away, freedom pushing it out. As the half-moon reached it’s highest point in the night sky, Stiles swooped low over the town, not giving a thought to where he was heading. The streets and houses were lit up in the silvery light of the moon, glowing eerily as he passed them by.

It was not until he has landed on the eaves of small apartment block that he realised where he was.

“Derek you’re being absurd,” Cora shouted, arms flailing in exasperation as she threw herself onto the couch Stiles could see through the window across from his perch. Even in his raven-form, Stiles’ blood ran cold. Why had he come here? And more importantly, why wasn’t he _leaving_? But Stiles stayed rooted to the spot, his talons gripping the rooftop and refusing to release. “You’re completely crazy, you know that?” Cora continued on her tirade.

“I’m not crazy Cora, I just don’t want him anywhere _near_ her,” someone growled, out of sighs. However, Stiles didn't need to see them to know who it was. “You shouldn’t have taken her in the first place, you should’ve left her here with _me_ ,” the growling continued.

“Excuse me but are you forgetting that she is, in fact, _my_ daughter?” Cora snarled, sitting upright again and glaring daggers in the direction her brother must have been.

“Well then maybe you should take better care of her,” the man hissed and Stiles almost felt sorry for him when a look of absolute fury solidified on Cora’s face. “I’m sorry Cora,” he sighed, the fight seeming to drain from him in that split second. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Flo is my _life_ ,” Cora hissed.

“And you think she isn’t _mine_?”

“But she’s not though Derek. She’s not yours. She mine. And _I_ make the decisions. And you clearly don’t know Stiles at all if you think he would so much as _breathe_ in a way that might hurt her,” Cora seethed.

“That wasn’t what I _meant_ Cora,” the man yelled in frustration. “But you’re right…. I don’t know Stiles. I never did,” he bit out at a much lower but far bitterer tone.

“Derek, I…” Cora started, slouching a little in defeat.

“No, you’re right. She’s you daughter. You make the decisions. But, for my sake, please don’t let her _scent mark_ him again,” Derek sighed, as he finally came into view, heading towards a door behind the couch. Stiles’ talons were gripping so tightly to the rooftop he though they might bleed. Derek froze for a moment, head cocking slightly to the side.

“Well you don’t have to worry on that account, I doubt we’ll ever see him again,” Cora snorted, sinking back into the couch pillows. Derek’s entire body tensed up, ignoring his sister completely.

“He’s outside,” he growled, so low Stiles could barely pick it up.

“What?”

“ _Stiles_ – _is_ – _out_ – _side_ ,” he gritted out slowly. _Fuck_.

“Don’t be ridiculous Derek, I would have heard him, or smelt him at the very least,” Cora snorted again, oblivious to Derek’s discomfort.

“I can feel him,” Derek whimperd, like he’s been gutted. And of all the things Stiles expected him to say, _that_ had not been it. “I can _feel_ him Cora,” he choked out, arms stretched out like he wanted to grasp something that wasn't there and in a spilt second their balcony door was being ripped open to reveal the silhouette of a woman.

“You little shit,” Cora cursed when her eyes landed on the raven sitting on the rooftop across the street. In the background Stiles could hear Derek gasping at her to _get – him – away._

And finally, _finally_ , Stiles’ talons loosened their grip on the rooftop and Stiles shot upwards into the night sky once again.

∞

The thing about ravens, about _Valravne_ , was that you could not tell they were there with any other sense than sight. You could not smell them, could not hear them. And even when you could see them, they looked like any other raven. There was nothing remarkable about them in that respect. Even common ravens could not tell themselves apart from the Valravne. Only they themselves could tell each other apart. Stiles had been around enough supernatural packs to know that no other supernatural being could pick up on them either. So whatever sense Derek used to tell he was there was not one that most people or creatures possessed. It was something different.

The second thought that hit Stiles as he became airborne was that he had never had a panic attack in the air before. He thought his raven-form incapable of it. The tightening of his lungs and the blurring of his vision suggested otherwise.

With a certainty that only came from there being absolutely no other option, Stiles knew that if he didn’t regain control of himself soon he was going to fall out the sky.

His wings felt heavy as he tried to draw breath. His feet hanging too low beneath him. The air was rushing past him. Not under him. The ground became the sky and the sky became the ground. He was tumbling.

 _Stiles_ … The voice entered his mind amidst the fog. _Stiles, listen to me._ Carmen. It was Carmen. Of course it was Carmen. _Stiles, focus on my voice_. Focus. She wants him to focus. _Can you hear me Stiles?_ How was he meant to focus. _Stiles_. Her voice. Focus on her voice. _Don’t fight the air Stiles. Let it help you._ Don’t fight. Stop struggling. _Let it hold you up_. Steady. Steady. _Stretch out your wings Stiles_. Wings. He had those. Stretch them. _Feel the air under them._ Air. Steady. _Trust in your wings, Stiles_. Trust. Stiles didn’t do trust. Trust got things broken. Trust ruined him. _Stiles_. But his wings were his. His wings. He could trust himself. Right. _Open your eyes Stiles._

When the world finally came back into focus, Stiles was hovering a little above two meters from the rooftops. Thankfully a few streets over from where the Hales were. Carmen was hovering beside him, concern in her murky black eyes.

 _I’m okay_ , Stiles told her, although really more for his own comfort than hers. _I’m okay._

 _Follow my slip stream_ , she ordered and he shouldn’t really take orders from her because he was the Alpha but in that moment he was grateful, following behind her at a steady pace as she guided them back towards the house. Leaving the built up town behind, Stiles flew easier across the treetops, stretching his wings a little more and letting the peace of the skies wash away the remnants of his panic. When the house came into view, he was a little reluctant to follow Carmen back to the ground but did so nonetheless, too exhausted to protest or fly on.

When the ground rose up to meet him, he flapped his wings sharply three times before twisting in the air and engulfing himself in the black mist before coming to rest in a crouch on the forest floor. He barely had time to draw breath before Carmen was in his face

“What the hell Stiles!” she hissed. “You almost died! What the hell were you thinking? No, scratch that- What the fuck _was_ that? It was like you completely lost control! I thought you were going to just drop from the fucking sky!”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Don’t ‘ _I’m sorry’_ me! I can’t loose you, you know that! I can’t. I can’t. Don’t _do_ that to me!” she cried, her breaths coming fast and hard. “Not- Not after-”

“What’s going on?” Allison interrupted. “Stiles, are you alright?” she askd, taking in his unusually pale complexion and shortness of breath.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“And what, you bumped into an invisible barrier in the sky,” Carmen snorted humorlessly.

“What?” Allison frowned. “Where did you go?”

“Rushgrove Road,” he replied, face blank.

“Oh,” was all Allison said.

“Rushgrove Road? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Carmen demanded. “What’s on Rushgrove Road that would cause you to practically drop out the sky?”

Stiles gave Allison a blank look and she nodded, watching him walk back to the house.

“I don’t understand,” Carmen slumped.

“The Hales,” she replied coldly. “That Hales are what’s on Rushgrove Road.”

∞

“Earth to Stiles,” Renn chuckled, waving her hand in front of his face. The sun had almost reached its midway point in the sky but it was still unusually cold for a Californian September. “You’ve been out here all morning, did you even _get_ any sleep?” Stiles rubbed his eyes and yawned by way of answer. “Oh my god – me and Hugo are going to take off for a bit alright,” she informed him, smirking a little at her pun.

“Sure, keep an eye out though,” he sighed.

“Stiles this town has just had a huge trespassing werewolf pack coming through, I sincerely doubt anything’s going to come by again for some time,” she chuckled.

“You don’t know Beacon Hills,” was his response. “Just keep an eye out, alright, and be back by four. I’m going to see if I can get some sleep.”

“Yes sir,” she saluted, hoping to at least get a smile out of him. She was rewarded with an eye roll, which was good enough. “See you later, ooh, also I left some cookies out for you, we got them at this bakery this morning and they are _divine_ ,” she told him before ducking back into the house and yelling for Hugo.

Stiles ambled into the kitchen and took a moment to marvel at how quickly his little group had managed to take over the space and make it took a little lived in. A lot of the wood was slightly rotten but nothing had collapsed yet which was a change from most places they stayed in. The camping set was strewed about the place in what to Stiles appeared a haphazard manner but what he was sure to Logan made perfect sense, left over food bits were still scattered about and someone had left a cardigan draped over one of the precarious chairs.

As Renn had promised, there was a bakery box lying on the side with several cookies still left in it. Grabbing the box, Stiles headed upstairs in search of a horizontal surface that wasn’t a couch or camping matt for once. He smelled Renn the moment he set foot in one of the bedrooms and the comforting scent made him relax a little more, settling down on the bed she had occupied during the night, he started nibbling on a cookie. She was right. They were divine.

Two cookies later, Stiles felt his eyelids drooping and rearranged himself more comfortably on the bed, quickly drifting to sleep. For once, and perhaps more surprisingly considering his location and the events of the last forty-eight hours, Stiles didn’t dream.

∞

The first thing Stiles noticed when he woke up, was that the cookie box has fallen off the bedside table onto the bed and spilled crumbs everywhere. The second was that the bakery the cookies came from was called ‘Over The Moon’. The inscription beneath it said _Reyes and Lahey_. Fantastic.

The third thing he noticed was that Hugo and Renn were back and avidly discussing their flight. Which could only mean they found something of interest. Grudgingly he heaved himself from the bed, rubbing his eyes again before straightening his clothes and heading downstairs. Renn and Hugo were sitting at the kitchen table with Logan and Carmen, apparently having broken one of the chairs if the heap of wood in the corner was anything to go by. The latter two who seemed to be hooked on whatever the others were telling them.

“What’s going on?” he yawned as Logan passed him a cup of tea, having clearly heard his approach.

“There’s a huge swarm of Imps about three dozen miles outside the cities limits,” Hugo informed him, peeling the skin off a banana and throwing it towards Renn, earning him a glare and his own banana skin in his face.

“And when we say huge, we mean _huge_ ,” Renn elaborated. “I’ve never seen them travel in such a big group before. There must have been well over a hundred of them!”

“It was more like just under a hundred,” Hugo shrugged. “But she’s right, I’ve never seen a swarm so big before. They were hardly trying to hide themselves either, it looked like a huge crowd of graduates coming out to celebrate,” he snorted.

“Do I want to know which way they were heading?” Stiles groaned, slumping into a seat and only remembering at last minute not to put too much weight on it. Hugo just gave him a look. Great.

“Stiles’ they’ll be here in just over a day, if not faster, I know they’re pretty slow travellers but seriously, we need to scram,” Renn urged and Stiles’ eyes went wide for a moment. Leave. She was talking about leaving. That was the plan, wasn’t it? To leave. “We are leaving right?” she asked after a moment’s silence. “Ugh, _please_ , I still haven’t recovered from the last time we had to deal with Imps are there were only like eight then. Now there is _almost a hundred_. What about that makes you want to _stay_?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t want to stay,” he replied immediately. “And we aren’t going to. I’m going to warn the resident pack of their uninvited guests before we leave though.”

“Ooh, ooh, can I come? I want to see Brett’s face when we tell him _Imps_ are coming. He was just telling me last night about how Imps are his _least_ favourite creature to deal with,” she smirked.

“I think it’s best I go alone,” Stiles sighed. “Be ready to leave in an hour.”

∞

Stiles was already in the sky, leaving the Wrangler behind for the rest to pack up, when he realised that he didn't actually know where Scott lived anymore. And then it hit him, that actually, _yes he did_. Because Scott lived in the Hale House. His scent was embedded there in the way it only was if someone was there most hours of the day. His and Lydia’s. Stiles just hadn’t been paying enough attention to realise it at the time.

Why on earth Scott lived in the _Hale_ House and the Hales still lived in Rushgrove Road was completely beyond him but he quickly changed courses and headed out towards the preserve. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard Scott and Lydia and… Cora talking in slightly aggressive tones when he focused his hearing in that direction. Surrounding the Hale House were a selection of wards that he hadn’t noticed last night, probably because he was too preoccupied with everything and they had been expected anyway. Stiles managed to get by them with little difficulty though and made a mental note to tell Scott they were in serious need of replacement. He knew he passed them all undetected because no one in the house so much as twitched at his arrival. They were all focused on whatever conversation they were having.

“I’m serious Scott, he just _showed_ _up_ at the loft, well not _showed up_ , he was perched on the fucking roof in his fucking bird form or whatever but the point is that he was _there_. I haven’t seen Derek freak out like that since- well, _never_. I _told_ you he was keeping it all bottled up-” Cora was ranting again and _why_ did Stiles always have to drop by when people were talking about him.

“Cora we all know Derek has his own way of dealing with things,” Lydia was trying to get her to calm down to no success. “But are you seriously trying to say that you didn’t _notice_ him?”

“ _No_! I didn’t _hear_ him, I didn’t _smell_ him,” she flung her arms out and Lydia jerked back a little. “There was seriously nothing to indicate that he was there at all!”

Stiles found an open window and swooped in, twisting in the corridor and landing silently in a crouch before standing up and leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. No one noticed him.

“Now that you mention it, I thought there was something odd about them yesterday, I mean the younger girl actually managed to jump out at me – I don’t think she meant to but I just had no idea she was there,” Scott mused.

“Well that the things about Valravn,” Stiles stated, making the three of them jump out of their skins and Scott and Cora wolf out. “We’re _supposed_ to go unnoticed.”

“What the _fuck_!” Cora hissed.

“Relax, I come in peace,” he snorted.

“What the hell do you want?” she continued to hiss, slowly retracting her fangs but noticeably leaving her claws out.

“To let you know you have a swarm of Imps heading your way, numbers reaching just under one hundred,” he said blandly, watching as all three faces across from him morph into disgust. “They’re coming in from the West and were about thirty-five miles from your border at noon.”

“And you’re telling us this why?” Lydia asked, eyes narrow and distrusting.

“Because he’s leaving,” Scott replied for him, face blanker than Stiles had ever seen it before.

“We’ll be gone by dusk,” Stiles promised.

“You’re going to leave us with a fuckton of _Imps_ heading our way?” Cora hissed again.

“It’s not his land, he has no obligation to defend it,” Scott said steadily.

“Yeah but we saw what he could do with the Reed pack, they could probably wipe the fuckers out in less than an hour,” she complained.

“Still not his land,” Scott replied. “Thank you for the warning Alpha Stilinski.”

“Thank you for permission to cross your territory Alpha McCall,” Stiles nodded before turning around and twisting in the air, taking off out the window he and entered by and not quite missing the slight gasps from those he had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments o readers of mine.


	7. The Turnabout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should not be writing this I HAVE TO REVISE. So sorry if this is a bit short but I thought I'd give you a little something. Also, as always, please let me know if you think I should add any tags! Thanks for reading!

    

    

    

_[Erica Boyd](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143032521528/erica-boyd-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Turnabout**

“You’re not happy,” Allison stated an hour and a half into their journey. Renn jolted slightly at the sound of her voice in the near silence the Wrangler had been subjected to since they left the town’s borders. Stiles just sighed. “Spit it out.”

“I just… _a hundred Imps_?” he frowned.

“I knew it,” Allison sighed. “You want to go back.”

“Cora’s right though, we could probably get rid of them in a couple of hours, it would take a wolf-pack _weeks_ ,” he pointed out. Allison said nothing. “I mean, its kind of what we _do_ , isn’t it? We’re like the supernatural vanguard-”

“Californian Supernatural FBI,” Renn supplied.

“-we’re supposed to _protect_ people from this kind of shit. Not run away. What’s our motto again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Allison in the rearview.

“We protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Allison relayed grudgingly. “But that’s what their pack is for. _They_ are the defenders of Beacon Hills. Not us. They _can_ defend themselves,” she argued.

“But what if the Imps get into the town? They would cause havoc! Besides, I don’t know about you but I would kind of like to know why so many Imps have congregated in one swarm.”

“I definitely _don’t_ ,” Renn grumbled.

“What if there’s something worse on their tail? We can just abandoned a town to its fate like that.”

“Really, we’re talking about the town now?” Allison raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

“Yes, _Allison_ , we’re talking about the _town_. The town with hundreds of inhabitants that have absolutely _no idea_ what is coming their way.”

“I don’t like where this conversation is heading,” Renn muttered.

“Stiles you can’t be serious!” Allison protested, abandoning the bow she had been polishing in her lap. “We already dealt with the wolf-pack that was invading, I _absolutely_ don’t want to have to go back and deal with something else as _well_.”

“Stiles, they’re _Imps_ ,” Renn whined. “I _hate_ Imps.”

“Everyone hates Imps but at least we know what they _are_! Imagine one turning up on your doorstep and you not having a clue what it was… you’d be done for!”

“Wait, where is the Defender?” Renn interrupted again, looking over her shoulder in search of the Defender that was no longer behind them. A phone chose that moment to ring and Allison picked it up.

“Hugo? Where are you guys?” she asked. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered a second later. “Stiles, Hugo says Logan has pulled over because he doesn’t want to waste anymore gas and he wants to know when you’re going to turn around,” she asked grouchily. Stiles chuckled.

“Tell them we’re on our way,” he said, glancing around the deserted highway before preforming a completely illegal U-turn and heading southward once again.

“I hate you,” Allison grumbled.

“Wait, did you tell Logan about this before?” Renn accused.

“No, he just has a better moral code than the two of you put together,” Stiles chuckled.

“You’re all dicks,” Renn proclaimed, slumping back in her seat. “I hate Imps.”

∞

Somehow is took them just over half the time to get back to Beacon Hills as it did to leave and Allison finally made sense of Stiles’ slow speed as they had headed north. This was absurd. Going to Beacon Hills originally was absurd but going back _again_? There was only one way this could end and that was with more pain, more regret, more _anger_ than it had the last time she was there.

Stiles ended up heading straight to the Hale House when they got closer to town, rather than the house they had been squatting in; Logan was right behind him, looking fairly amused every time Allison looked into the rearview. There was nothing remotely funny about this though. They were heading _back_ into Beacon Hills once again to fight off _Imps_. Renn was right: they were all dicks.

∞

Stiles head it first. They were still too far outside of Beacon Hills for it to be a good sign. If he focused, he could hear the people in the town, the couple fighting over wedding invitations, the old woman making her grandchildren nauseous by bring up her sex life, the business man buying salad and trying to flirt with the woman at the till. He could hear it all. But it was what was beyond that that worried him. On the other side of town, just before the fringes of the preserve. The industrial district.

He caught Logan’s eye in his rearview and knew the wolves ere picking up on it too, their hearing just a little better than the other Valravn. He pressed the gas pedal a little harder.

“Stiles, what are you doing? The last thing we need is for you to get a speeding ticket,” Allison hissed when the wind noticeably picked up. “Beacon Hills isn’t going to run away,” she snorted, clearly still pissed off with the decision to turn around.

“Oh,” Renn gasped, the sound finally coming into range for her.

“What?” Allison frowned.

“The Imps,” the younger girl replied in surprise.

“What about them?”

“They’re already there.”

∞

Allison’s phone rang a moment later, Hugo sounding a little distressed on the other end of the line. “I swear, I didn’t know! They were miles out when we saw them! They’re normally so slow, I wasn’t expecting them to get to the border until midday tomorrow at the earliest! I don’t understand, it takes like twelve hours to walk that far and that’s if you walk fast! Imps are normally twice as slow as humans because they like to mess around and cause havoc everywhere so they just take their time. They must have basically run the whole way without getting distracted and you _know_ how easily distracted Imps can be when they aren’t really focused on anything. I don’t _get_ it,” he whined.

“Hugo, calm down, it’s not your fault and no-one is blaming you,” Allison instantly assured him. “Now think, what could possibly make Imps move that fast?”

“I have no idea!” he practically wailed in frustration. “I’m supposed to know these things, I can normally calculate the arrival of something to within minutes! I don’t understand how I got this so completely wrong!”

“Hugo, I told you to calm down,” she ordered. “This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if… What if I put that pack in danger?” he whispered. “It was my calculations Stiles gave them, what if they weren’t prepared? What if something happens to them?”

“Hugo, what is our first rule?” Allison frowned and Hugo sighed forlornly in her ear.

“No ‘what ifs’,” he answered. “I know that but-”

“No ‘buts’ either,” she chuckled. “Tell Carmen we’re going to need her and Renn to scout the area as soon as we get a little closer, also get Jackson to get all the weapons we’re going to need ready. I’ve got my bow and my ring daggers, could you tell him to put my butterflies in there too. Oh and put Renn’s smoke grenades in there as well as her normal ones. Okay?”

“Butterfly knives, smoke grenades, normal grenades… Has Stiles got his brace? Oh no, it’s here, never-mind. Logan could you try not to swerve? I don’t care if it’s a bend I’m trying to do stuff here,” Hugo rambled over the phone. “Hey, Allison do you think my Corvo would be any good against Imps? Oooh, I’m definitely taking my BC-41, punching those suckers in the face might just be the highlight of this trip,” he cackled. “Right, anything else? I’ve packed the usual stuff plus an extra two tins of larkspur, do you want us to coat all the weapons we’ve got in it now or wait until we’re closer?”

“Coat them now, we can always top it up, also see if you can split the tins into seven vials so everyone can keep some on them, it might help confuse the Imps, or at least make them a little more wary,” she suggested.

“Cool, okay, hey Jackson, stop sulking and coat your fucking staff in this – that sounded like a very weird euphemism, I’m sorry. Carmen you can do the same, also maybe put some on your gloves, it won’t kill them but it’ll sting like a bitch and distracted them.”

“You distracted _him_ pretty well,” Stiles snorted from the front seat, able to hear their entire conversation even though Allison had not put the phone on speaker. “Tell Carmen to hurry up, I’m going to drop Renn off at the next layby,” he told her. “Make sure she puts anything she’s going to need in one of the bags.”

“You hear that Hugo? Make sure Carmen’s ready by the next layby – which looks like its coming up in a couple of hundred meters with everything she needs in one of the bags,” Allison related.

“Rodger that, Carmen get your ass together,” Hugo barked and Allison could hear a faint curse and something that sounds like Hugo getting whacked on the head. Which it most likely was. “She’s already,” he informed her just as Stiles pulled into the layby and Renn jumped out the Wrangler without bothering to open the door. She heard the click of the line being disconnected as Hugo hung up.

Carmen was out the Defender a second later and the two of them took off at a run before leaping into the air and twisting as the familiar black mist engulfed them and two ravens flew out into the sky. Stiles looked momentarily proud, as he always did when he watches the change before sticking the Wrangler back into gear and pulling back onto the road. Allison climbed into the front seat Renn had vacated.

“What’s the plan?” she hedged, a little wary of the blank look on Stiles’ face. He started a little, as if forgetting he wasn’t the only one in the car. Allison would be offended if she hadn’t experienced the same thing a hundred times before.

“Well Imps aren’t particularly dangerous to supernatural creatures. It would take something pretty spectacular for them to kill us but… well, for one, a swarm of a hundred Imps isn’t exactly normal so I don’t feel like ruling out spectacular and two, well, not all of us _are_ supernatural creatures,” he said, looking pointedly at her. “You know what happens if they capture you, don’t you,” he sighed.

“Well, _no_ , that’s the point. A human caught by a Imp is never seen again, no-one actually knows what happens to them,” she retorted.

“You know what I meant.”

“Stiles, what is our first rule?” she reminded him. “We fight like a family. Either all of us or none of us. I’m going to fight Stiles. I always do.”

“I know just… maybe take a back-row, don’t do anything drastic,” he winced.

“Right, because out of the two people in this car, _I’m_ the one who would do something drastic,” she snorted. “I know the risks, Stiles.”

“I know you do. I just…”

“Yeah, me too.”

∞

 _The wolves have them cornered in the industrial state, the block right at the end on your right as you come in_ , a dismembered voice entered Stiles head. _The wolves are tired._ Stiles pressed just a little harder on the gas until the Welcome to Beacon Hills sign came into view. _Main Street is clear, quickest route_. Stiles quickly turned into the main street.

“Which angle is the best for us to come in at?” Allison asked, knowing Stiles and Renn ere talking in the strange, almost telepathic way the Valravne could. _Wolves pulling focus away from town._

“Probably from this side, the others are trying to pull them away from the town so their attention is that way. We could probably get halfway across the industrial estates before they even noticed us,” he relayed. “They’re in the top block.”

“Take the North Bridge over the river and it leads you straight into that estate,” she recalled. “It’s easier to get to on this side than getting to that block from the Industrial Bridge further down on the other side. It might even give us a bit more time.” Stiles did as she suggested, turning northwards rather than crossing the bridge at the end of the Main Street.

They were on North Bridge when the screaming started. The banshee. Stiles knew it was not a real scream, not a scream of death. Not yet. Just distraction. Just extra noise pollution to confuse the Imps. It still sent a shiver down his spine. In his rearview, Logan winced and a moment later Hugo pulled a face. Jackson must tell them it wasn't real because they both relax a little.

 _Take a right and then an immediate left and pull in by the garbage bins_ , the voice in his head instructed and he followed, pulling the Wrangler up beside a huge industrial waste bin. The Defender pulled up along side them as they hopped out the car and two ravens flew down to meet them, twisting in mid air as they neared the ground before two women landed in crouched positions.

“They’ve taken out about four Imps so far, which is kind of pathetic,” Renn stated immediately. “I think one of them isn’t even dead, just stunned. Logan, have you got my grenades?” she asked.

“As always Miss Greenwood,” he smirked, tapping the military melt hanging below his own. “Smoke on the left, normal on the right,” he informed her.

“Great, I’ll squawk three times if I’m coming down as usual but to be honest, I’m going to try and stay in the air as long as possible.”

“I think I’m going to fly as well,” Carmen added on, to Stiles’ vague surprise. Most Valravne didn't chose to fight in their raven-form, preferring to use it as a backup plan or for surveillance purposes. Renn was the exception to the rules, like she always was but Carmen usually preferred her own feet in a fight. But he wasn't one to question them.

“I’ll carry your spear but you can take your gloves,” Jackson compromised. “They smell,” he elaborated, wrinkling his nose at the larkspur she had rubbed all over them.

“I put it on my spear as well,” she rolled her eyes.

“I meant of you,” he deadpanned and she whacked him slightly with one of her offending gloves before putting them on. The others all grabbed their weapons out of the bags Jackson and Hugo had packed, attaching belts and braces and checking fastenings. Logan fastened the ropes of his Bolas around his waist, latching it onto his belt and being careful the ends wouldn't knock into any of Renn’s grenades. Jackson put on his brace after fastening his quarterstaff and Carmen’s spear into their designated spots. Allison checked all of her knives one last time on the belt around her hips before slinging her quiver onto her back and picking up her bow. Stiles was quick to secure his brace and swords, flexing his fingers and making the tattoos visible on his hands and neck darken somewhat. Hugo stashed three stiletto daggers in the sheaths on his belt, one Corvo on the back, and the BC-41 on his right hand side. He then bent down to pick up the almost two meter long, dark silver chain, spinning one of the solid metal cylinder shapes at one end obnoxiously whilst grinning in a way Allison thought made it really obvious his boyfriend was a werewolf.

“Looks like we’re all set,” Hugo drawled just as the banshee screamed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duh


	8. The Swarm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to fail my exams.

    

    

    

_[Hugo Rivers](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143028270140/hugo-rivers-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Swarm**

The thing about Imps was that they weren’t actually that dangerous to supernatural creatures. They weren’t poisons, didn’t have claws or fangs, weren’t exactly the most militarily advanced species and just generally weren’t particularly bothered with them. What Imps _were_ interested in, however, was humans. Thousands of years ago, Imps had craved human attention, had pestered them for months or even years on end, desperate to be noticed and doted on. Humans however, had not been interested. Years of being ignored and scorned had made Imps turn from mischievous pesterers into malicious creatures that not longer just craved human attention but demanded it. If left to their own devices, Imps would raid human towns and take whoever took their fancy. Not enough to cause wide spread alarm but enough to settle their cravings. What happened to these people, no one knew.

Imps looked like regular human people, often in their twenties or thirties because due to their incredibly long natural lifespan, they aged excessively slowly. The only thing that really separated them physically was a faint blue sheen to their skin only visible in certain lights and their ability to move exceptionally fast over short distances. Because of this, it fell to the supernatural creatures of Imp-invaded towns to protect the humans in their borders.

What Imps _were_ to other supernaturals was extremely annoying. Their ability to ‘dash’ so quickly, whilst not much help in going long distances, was certainly enough to throw other supernaturals off their back for a second so they could regain an advantage. It also meant that locating them could be difficult as they were always moving about and their scent could be everywhere. They were tricksters and pranksters at heart, mischievous in their ability to avoid and quite frankly, just tiresome. Blocking them wasn’t particularly hard but catching them and _making them leave_ was what caused most of the problems.

Usually, Imps travelled in small groups of between eight and sixteen. For a wolf pack, capturing them all and negotiating their departure could take days if not weeks. Now there were almost a hundred of them.

“Brett don’t be a twat!” Erica bellowed as the younger wolf sprinted out in front of a group of Imps. “Great, now they know where we are!”

“Maybe they’ll chase him and we can capture them from behind?” Carrie suggested, claws coming out in preparation. “They’re not smart enough to look behind them.”

“Have you got the net?”

“All set and ready,” Carrie nodded, picking up the larkspur covered net and wiggling it slightly, a little grin playing across her face.

“Your fascination with these fuckers is seriously disturbing, you know that right?” Erica snorted, peaking around the corner to see whether the Imps were in fact chasing Brett. “Right, lets go,” she ordered and the two of them sprinted out, as quietly as they could manage so as not to cause the Imps to dash out of sight. There were three of them, dashing around Brett like cats play with mice, cackling hysterically when he almost tripped over the curb. “On three,” Erica whispered as Carrie threw her a corner of the net. “One… two… THREE!”

The Imps paused for a second at the sound, spinning around just as the girls threw the net over their heads, the metal weights on each corner landing on the ground and trapping two of the three Imps. They hissed and squirmed as the larkspur ropes burned their skin but otherwise made no attempt to escape the net. Carrie and Erica tied the ropes off just below their hands so they could still walk, dodging the spittle that came their way, as Brett came running back over, grinning.

“Told you it would work,” he beamed.

“No, you didn’t tell us anything, you just took off,” Erica barked.

“Well I knew Carrie would figure out my plan,” he shrugged.

“That’s not the point. Discuss first, then enact,” Erica replied. “Now lets get these to warehouse six before any more decide to show up,” she growled. The trio walked the two irate Imps back down several alleys, avoiding areas they suspected were Imp infested, before reaching the warehouse. Larkspur lined all the perimeters and any potential escape routes but Erica wasn't entirely convinced that it would hold all the Imps. If they even caught that many, as far as she knew, these were the fist two and they had been at it for almost two hours already and in all honest, catching these guys was more down to luck than skill.

Lydia, Danny and Jordan were hovering inside, one Imp sitting begrudgingly on the floor a few meters away from them. Three Imps in two hours. That was not too bad.

“Hey Lyd, we got a couple more,” Erica greeted them, dragging the Imps in.

“Great, we felt a bit pointless all three watching one Imp,” Danny snorted. “Now we have one each.”

“Boyd’s group brought that one in, I think Scott’s trying to find their leader,” Lydia informed them.

“Imps don’t have leaders,” Carrie frowned.

“I think he thinks that a group this large must have some kind of organizational structure,” Lydia explained but the look on her faces said she was not convinced. “Just whatever happens, don’t let them cross the river, the larkspur barriers are still in place and I know they can’t swim but just in case, try and keep them as far back as possible.”

“Right-o,” Erica nodded, heading back to the door with Carrie and Brett on her heels. “See you later.” As they stepped outside again, a figure almost collided with them, blinking slightly, Erica adjusted her wolf vision to the dark and spotted Liam, bent over a panting. “Hey, dude, are you okay? Where are Scott and Isaac? You know you’re not supposed to split up, don’t you?” she greeted him, patting him on the shoulder as he regained his breath, faster than a human would have but not as fast as normal.

“Wolfsbane,” he gasped out. “The fucking Imps have wolfsbane and they’ve got Scott and Isaac trapped I only just managed to get away,” he replayed. Danny was yanking the door open a second later, face startled.

“What do you mean? Imps never carry wolfsbane, there’s no point they’re not actually trying to hurt us, just get passed us. There’d be no point trapping us,” Danny said.

“Unless they were really desperate,” Carrie shrugged. “It’s not unheard of, Imps that haven’t taken a human in too long can go insane.”

“These Imps don’t _look_ like they’re going insane and besides, there’s too many of them to _all_ be desperate,” Erica argued.

“This isn’t the time for the _whys_ ,” Lydia snapped behind Danny. “Your priority now is to get Scott and Isaac out, we have no idea why they’ve caught them but it isn’t going to be good. Catch whatever Imps you can on the way but _get Scott_ ,” she ordered with a steely voice betraying her position as the Alpha’s second even though she wasn't actually a wolf. Erica, Carrie and Brett nodded and Danny looked half torn between staying where he had been instructed to and following them as they took off down the road in the direction Liam led them. A hand on his shoulder from Lydia was all it took to persuade him to stay. Never split from your trio unless absolutely necessary.

Liam took them to another warehouse, almost identical to the one they had just left. The great doors had been flung open though and were emitting a raucous noise into the night. The four wolves stood and stared in horrid fascination at the sight before them. At least half the Imps were inside the warehouse, throwing whatever things they could land their hands on around aimlessly, cackling and shouting like drunken frat boys at a bonfire. They had even lit small fires at random intervals around the mostly empty space. In their midst was a circle of mountain ash about two and half meters in diameter, crudely drawn and containing the two other wolves. Liam let out a whimper when he saw the gash on Scott’s arm, no longer bleeding but not heeling either. Wolfsbane.

“How the hell are we supposed to get them out?” Liam hissed.

“Calm down,” Brett murmured, running a hand over the younger boy’s shoulder blades. “We’ll figure something out,” he promised. “Erica, you think you could risk howling to call either Derek or Boyd’s trio over?” he suggested.

“No need,” Derek growled behind them, claws and fangs already out and Cora and Chris standing either side of him in similar positions, the latter with two handguns hanging from his hands and an ammo belt around his waist. “Erica, can you create a diversion and lead as many as possible out of there? Liam, you stick with Erica,” he ordered as Erica nodded, already running through the map of the district in her mind to figure out the best course to lead them.

Derek, Chris and Cora crouched down behind one of the open doors whilst Brett, Liam and Carrie hovered by the other, ready to sprint when Erica made the signal. Erica herself walked right up to the doors and tilted her head back, a long howl escaping her. It was a miracle Imps weren’t the brightest of creatures as it was such a blatant diversion more intelligent creatures would hardly have bitten the bait.

As it was, several dozen Imps turned to the intruder, Scott and Isaac looking slightly concerned for Erica’s sanity in the middle of them. There was a second pause before the Imps hollered manically and started dashing towards her as she and the others went sprinting down one of the side streets. Derek and his trio waited until the remaining Imps had lost interest in the interruption and turned back to taunting the two wolves they had captured.

Not quite as many had followed Erica as Derek had hoped but the numbers were still depleted, waving at Cora and Chris to follow him, he crept into the warehouse, skirting the walls in the shadows in order to go unnoticed. They hadn’t made it very far when a particularly viscous Imp launched half a crate in their direction and which landed on Chris’ foot, making him whelp slightly and drawing forty odd sets of eyes in their direction. Fuck.

“Cora, the rope,” Derek snapped and Cora untied the larkspur rope from her belt and handed one end to Derek. The two siblings charged forward at the same second the Imps leapt at them, the rope stretching between them as they encircle the creatures. A few managed to duck underneath it before Derek and Cora pulled it tight, slamming just over fifteen bodies together and tying off the rope. The Imps struggled and spat at them but the larkspur held strong and they didn’t break free.

“Derek behind you,” Chris whistled, firing a volley of bullets into the approaching Imps and scattering them. Derek ducked under the crate the Imp was trying to club him with and took the thing out by its legs, slamming it unconscious on the floor. Another Imp was pulling at Cora’ hair before dashing away only to dash back and tug it again, sending her spinning in circles of frustrated confusion before she sunk her claws into its stomach and pulled out its intestines.

It didn’t matter how many they took out though, the Imps kept coming. Scott was demanding one of them open the mountain ash barrier and Chris was yelling back at him, asking him _how_ exactly another werewolf was supposed to do that.

“I don’t know! Throw an Imps through it or something,” Scott bellowed, beside himself with having to watch his pack-mates so heavily outnumbered and unable to help. Another Imp scratched across Derek’s face with its slightly pointier than human nails. “Did you come in here without any one to back you up!” Scott yelled, distraught and started to pace inside the confines of the circle.

“Can’t you just _break_ out of it like before?” Cora growled, slamming an Imp against the wall until it was too dazed to fight back.

“Do you have any idea how much energy that costs, I’d be useless to you!”

“You’ve broken out of one made by one of the most powerful druids we’ve come across and you’re telling me that you can’t break a messy circle made by fucking _Imps_ , whose will power is nowhere near as strong as the Darach’s? That’s how you became a fucking Alpha isn’t it?” she yelled in return, taking out another two Imps that also seem fascinated with her hair.

“Fine! But it would be much easier if you just _threw_ something at it to break it,” Scott huffed, breathing deeply to focus his strength again. Before he could do much though, the fires that were lighting up the warehouse flickered slightly, almost going out before coming back in much greater force as two ravens swooped in through the open doors.

One of the ravens attacked the Imp sneaking up behind Cora whilst she was distracted, scratching across its face with its talons and blinding it. Five figures came striding into the building and all the Imps paused to stare at them, the bluish sheen of their skin darkening somewhat.

Then pandemonium broke loose.

If the Imps were crazed before, the arrival of the Valravn sent them in a complete frenzy, ripping and tearing and squawking furiously at their new rivals. The red headed boy leapt and rolled, dodging the Imps descending on him, even taking out one or two with a sharp and sickening thwack to their heads with the end of the chain in his hands. Eventually he came to a stop in front of the mountain ash barrier and swept a portion of it away, letting the wolves go, before getting up and taking out two more Imps in one suave move.

“Holy fuck, you actually came back,” Cora breathed out as she gutted another Imp. “Chris you owe me twenty bucks!” she followed in a shout, causing the redhead with the chain to chuckle.

“Contrary to popular belief,” the kid yelled over the din. “Stiles _does_ actually have a conscience!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Cora chuckled darkly, throwing an Imp against a stack of crates that came crumbling down on several others. Hugo wrapped his chain around another Imps neck, yanking sharply until he heard a distinctive crack and the Imp slumped in front of him.

Balls of fire came sweeping down the warehouse, setting several Imps on fire and cornering off several others. Allison was firing a volley of arrows into the crowd, keeping any Imps away from Hugo and Stiles whilst her father was backing Derek up with bullets. The two ravens were harassing the Imps from the air whilst Jackson and Logan were working in tandem to take them out whilst they were distracted. Scott and Isaac had rejoined the fight and were rounding up a half dozen Imps with another larkspur rope one of them had on them.

Stiles spotted one wolf being surrounded by seven Imps at once, lashing out but not able to take any of them down. Pulling out his larkspur-covered swords, he charged at them, slicing one, two, three heads off and kicking another to the ground. The wolf ripped out its throat before doing the same to two others and the remainder scattered. When Stiles looked up, he met familiar blue eyes and his insides lurched uncomfortably. Derek.

Before either of them could react another volley of Imps flung themselves at them, tearing at their clothes and spitting in their faces. They took them down together, slicing and clawing and ripping them apart.

No one was really sure how long they fought but dawn hadn’t touched the horizon yet. When Stiles took the head off the last Imp, the seven wolves, four Valravne and one human took in the devastation around them. The Imps weren’t really a threat. But in such vast quantities, they were an endurance test.

“Erica,” Scott croaked at last. “The rest of the Imps followed them, we have to help them,” he ordered and Isaac, Derek, Cora and Chris snapped to attention, already heading out the door and trying to pick up the scent or sound of their pack-mates. Scott looked to Stiles, who nodded slightly before the wolf leader took off as well. The two ravens came swirling to the ground and Carmen and Renn landed in a crouch.

“Well that was fun,” Carmen snorted.

“I fucking hate Imps,” Renn seethed. “The fuckers kept trying to tug on my tail.”

“Let’s go,” Stiles ordered and Renn sighed before running and leaping into the air again to track where the wolves were. The rest of them followed her out and Stiles pulled the doors across the building with the trapped and unconscious Imps as well as their dead inside. Stepping back, he drew breath before stretching out his hands. Slowly the entire building glowed before flames erupt from every crevice and the whimpers of those left were silenced.


	9. The Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Am. So. Sorry. I can't believe it has taken me so long and all I have to give you right now is a bit of a filler chapter. Hopefully you don't hate me too much.

    

    

    

_[Cora Hale](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143056768543/cora-hale-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Departure**

By the time dawn did colour the sky lilac there were no Imps left. At least three warehouses had been burnt to the ground and another four were damaged beyond reasonable repair. Soot marred everyone’s faces as they stared at the last smoldering warehouse. There was a tension in the air. An uncertainty. The Alpha of the wolf pack looked like he had been gutted; the fiery redhead beside him rested a hand on his shoulder in what should have amounted to a comforting gesture but the abject horror on her face belied her.

No one seemed to want to speak. The wolves looked to their leader for direction; the valravne looked to theirs in confusion. Some unspoken rule seemed to have been broken, one the valravne did not know and could not figure out. The wolves were hesitant, expressions ranging from shock to dismay to wariness. Everything was completely silent.

“We should go,” someone finally coughed. Several sets of eyes swivel around to Brett, almost astounded someone had dared break the silence. “Before the police get here,” he explained, gesturing unnecessarily at the burnt out buildings. Slowly others begun to nod, the wolves still looking uncertainly at their Alpha.

“We’ll stay and clean up what we can, the rest of you get back to the House and get yourselves cleaned up,” Derek barked out, motioning to his sister and Chris Argent. The rest of the wolves with the exception of their Alpha and his wife, listened without complaint, separating into groups as they took off in the direction of their vehicles or in some cases just at a run to burn off the last of their adrenaline.

Carmen and Hugo instantly headed over to a couple of Imp bodies that were lying in a pool of their own, blue-tinged blood but were abruptly brought to a halt by Cora’s outstretched arm. “I think you have done enough,” she informed them coolly. “We’ll deal with this, you should probably just leave.” The two redheads stepped back in confusion at her icy tone, turning to Stiles for help.

“Let’s go,” Stiles decided, jerking his head towards where they had left the cars.

∞

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Renn hissed when they are all out of earshot. “We just took out _a hundred_ Imps for them and they don’t even have the decency to say thank you? What the fuck! They were acting like someone had died! No one even got that badly injured! They could at least show a little gratitude. Fuck this town Stiles can we please just leave already? It’s making me antsy.”

“We’ll leave right after we all take a power nap,” Stiles promised firmly, suddenly eager to escape the suffocating feeling this town engulfed him in as well.

“I get the feeling we’re not welcome here anymore anyway,” Carmen muttered. “Renn’s right though – and I don’t say that often – but they could have been a little more grateful. What the hell was that even about?” she frowned at Stiles who refused to meet her eye.

“Who the fuck gives a shit? Let’s just go and get cleaned up,” Jackson interrupted. “I have Imp blood in my hair and under my nails and that stuff dries like a bitch.”

The drive back across town was oddly tense considering they had just eliminated the threat. Renn occasionally let out the indignant huff, muttering under her breath about _fucking Imps_ and _ungrateful bastards_. Stiles eventually turned up the music so loud that the few early birds on the sidewalk gave the car disdainful looks.

∞

The drive to Portland took them seven and half hours, traffic and a sudden downpour slowing their progress considerably. They drove it in one though, with only brief stops for gas and snacks interrupting the dreary monotony of the roads. Renn got so irritated with the unfamiliar silence and tension in the Wrangler that she actually got out and flew the stretch between Roseburg and Salem despite the rain. If Stiles tuned his hearing towards the Defender a few cars behind them, he could make out a similar lack of noise but he suspected that had more to do with the fact that Jackson and Carmen had fallen out at the last gas station over snack choices and were now resolutely ignoring each other whilst Hugo had fallen asleep.

Allison had not said a word since they got into the car but had visibly relaxed when they had crossed the border from California into Oregon. Both were too lost in thought to really want to start a conversation about everything they had just left behind for the second time in their lives. They probably _should_ talk about it; it probably wasn't healthy to bottle it all up once again. But that didn't mean they _would_. In fact, Stiles was quite content to never breath a word about any of it ever again.

Beacon Hills was like the last fifth of whiskey at the bottom of the bottle when you were trying to drown your sorrows. You know you shouldn't have, you know you should just leave it but you just can't seem to help yourself, think that it would be worth it, that you might as well, that it will numb that last bit of heartache… And in the morning you wake up with a pounding headache, fuzzy mouth and the knowledge that it _wasn't_ worth it. It would never be worth it. It would always leave you feeling worse than before. It would never heal that broken part inside of you because it was what cause that part to be broken in the first place.

Beacon Hills was toxic and Stiles hoped this time he had learned his lesson.

When they were at the utmost Northern point of Oregon, right on the border with Washington, Stiles finally decided that they could stop. That they were far enough away. Portland was a busy city so there was far less chance of them stepping on another supernatural’s turf as so many people passed through the city that firm borders were impossible to maintain. Besides, it was really only the wolves that they had to worry about, the valravne would just go unnoticed.

“This place is a dump,” Renn grumbled as Stiles pulled into a motel car park.

“You’ll live,” he snorted.

“We’ve been in worse,” Allison pointed out, with a slightly disgusted expression as she recalled some of the hovels they had stayed in in the past. The Defender pulled in behind them and Hugo hopped out first, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“So now we get to use a motel,” he yawned. “I thought they were too hard to defend?”

“We're in a huge city Hugh,” Logan chuckled. “I think we’ll be alright for one night.”

“Uh, huh,” the red head yawned again. “In that case, take me to bed or loose me forever,” he grinned, stretching his arms out towards Logan who merely chuckled in response, letting Hugo jump onto his back to be carried into the motel whilst the others grabbed their bags.

∞

That evening found Stiles on the roof of the motel, looking across at the lights of Portland, cigarette hanging limply from his lips, smoke twirling into the night sky and mingling with the pollution of the city. He must have been sitting there for several hours by the time Renn landed next to him in a blur of black before her human body settled against his side. Wordlessly, he offered her a cigarette, flicking at the engraved zippo to light it for her.

“Tell me about them,” she murmured, exhaling slowly.

“Who do you want to know about?” he sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to escape this conversation. When Renn set her mind to something, there was no changing it and clearly curiosity and probably a smidge of concern had led her to decide that she wanted to know more about Stiles’ relations to that godforsaken town they had left earlier that day.

“Hmm,” she pondered. “Brett.”

“Brett? Okay…” That was okay; Brett was nothing special. He could do this. “Uh, he wasn't part of the pack the last time I was there, must’ve joined later. Was part of Satomi’s pack actually, the wolf we met near Lake Tahoe – maybe he just wanted to stay in Beacon Hills,” _god knows why_ he added on in his head. “Played lacrosse against him, he and Liam were pretty antagonistic back then to be honest. Had a little sister too, if I’m not mistaken, maybe she went with Satomi,” he shrugged, there really wasn't much more he could say about Brett Talbot.

“What about Liam?” Renn queried. “He doesn't seem to be particularly fond of you.”

“Liam was the first person Scott gave the bite to,” Stiles shrugged again, tattoos rippling across his forearm as he took another drag of his cigarette. “Had serious anger issues back then too, clearly hasn't changed much. He’s probably mad at me because I hurt Scott,” he added on as an afterthought, the memory making something twist uncomfortably in his gut.

Renn hesitated before speaking this time. “Do you want to talk about Scott?” she asked, giving him a choice this time. Stiles shook his head jerkily. Absolutely not. “Okay then, what about that girl who wasn't at the barbeque, the one who was badly injured?”

“Kira,” Stiles supplied. “She moved to Beacon Hills just before everything really started to go to shit,” he confessed. “God, she was so innocent, never thought badly of anyone. She was still with Scott when I- back then,” he changed, not quite being able to utter the words ‘ _when I left’_.

“That must be awkward,” Renn snorted, trying to ease the tension that was inevitably building up due to the nature of the conversation they were having. “So Scott and Lydia weren’t together back then?”

“No! God no… I’m still trying to get my head around that,” he chuckled humorlessly. “No, Lydia was – Lydia was the unattainable girl, you know. I thought I was in love with her for most of my teen years to be honest. Scott never showed any interest in her but thinking back on it, that was probably out of some misplaced sense of best mate boundaries,” Stiles frowned.

“Scott was your best mate?” Renn blurted out in surprise before she could stop herself. Stiles nodded once, not meeting her gaze. “So, uh, were you and Lydia ever a thing then?” she asked to change the topic slightly.

“Nah, she was with Jackson for most of high school before his parents moved him to London.”

“ _Jackson_! No way. Nuh-uh. Don’t see it, you can't be _serious_!” Renn laughed, throwing her head back and illuminating her throat in the hazy moonlight. “Lydia and _Jackson_ … _our_ Jackson?” Stiles nodded again, smiling slightly at Renn’s completely disbelief. “But… Jackson is so pathetic,” she giggled. “How did he ever manage to score someone like _Lydia_?”

“Beats me – they were like the power couple of the school though,” he chuckled. “God I was so jealous of him, didn't think he deserved someone like Lydia. Now look at us.”

“Now he’s probably jealous of Lydia for ever holding a special place in your unattainable heart,” Renn snorted. “Although that would explain why they thought it was so funny that you’re the only guy Jackson would want to have sex with.”

“Moving _on_ …” Stiles groaned, squashing the faint tinge of guilt that has squirmed into his chest.

“Alright, alright, what about Cora? She definitely wanted to punch you in the face.”

“Cora is… Well, Cora is Cora,” Stiles muttered uncomfortably. “She’s…” he trailed off, unsure what to really say.

“She’s Derek’s sister,” Renn filled in for him and _fuck_ she always knew how to get right to the heart of something. Stiles didn't say anything, didn't even nod, just lay back against the roof tiles and inhaled on his cigarette. But really, that was answer enough.

∞

The following morning found the seven of them crammed into a booth in some generic diner, the tension from the last few days lifting as they feasted on pancakes, eggs, bacon, copious amount of coffee and whatever else they managed to find on the menu. Carmen and Jackson seemed to have overcome whatever petty argument they had the day before and were teaming up to take the piss out of Hugo over how he liked his eggs or some such insignificant thing. Logan and Allison were discussing the best places to hit someone in order to knock them out with such enthusiasm the couple in the booth behind them actually asked to be moved. Renn was busy threading straws into Hugo’s hair without him noticing.

The heavy weight that had been sitting in Stiles’ chest since they passed the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign was finally lifting, so of course when they headed back to the motel to collect their bags and check out, the last thing he expected to see was a woman with dark hair and horribly familiar features leaning against the Wranglers and inspecting her nails.

She looked up when she heard them approach and Stiles seemed to be the only one to have noticed her.

“Cora.”


	10. The Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I cannot thank you guys enough for still showing such an interest in this story despite how long it was since my last update! You guys are amazing!

    

    

    

_[Carmen Stone](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143056995413/carmen-stone-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Reversal**

“Absolutely not,” Stiles shook his head firmly before Cora could so much as utter a word.

“You don't even know what I’m going to say,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don't care,” he replied honestly.

“Well tough luck, you’re going to hear me out anyway,” she snorted, pushing off the Wrangler and gesturing for him to lead her to their rooms. “Don’t make a scene Stilinski,” she growled threateningly when he didn't move. In the end, Renn had to practically shove Stiles towards the privacy of their room and grab the key from his pocket to unlock the door. The others followed them hesitantly, eyes flitting between the two.

By the time they were all crammed into the room Stiles and Renn had shared, Cora was clearly on edge, twisting her hands together in a nervous action Stiles never thought he would see on her. Logan and Hugo climbed onto one of the beds as Renn pushed Stiles into the single chair before joining Carmen and Jackson on the other bed. Allison stood firmly by the door, staring Cora down with an unreadable expression.

“I feel like I’m being kidnapped,” Stiles muttered glumly. “By my own _people_ ,” he hissed in Renn’s direction, she merely rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow at Cora in a freakish imitation of the Hale’s eyebrow game.

“You need to come back,” Cora informed him.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles repeated. “No way, not happening, never again.”

“Stiles we _need_ you,” was what came out of Cora’s mouth next and _that_ was not what he was expecting. Not from Cora Hale. “You don’t get it, the thing with the werewolf pack and then with the Imps… they’re almost _regular_ for us, not usually in quite such quick succession but we’ve been dealing with this sort of crap for _years_ and it’s only getting _worse_ ,” Cora pleaded. “What you guys did to the Imps was insane, I’ve never seen anything like it and we _need_ that, _please_.”

Cora’s expression was pleading, something Stiles never thought he would witness on her face and it tugged at something behind his ribs but… “Scott doesn't want us there. I won’t intrude on another Alpha’s territory,” he stated firmly.

“Who do you think sent me?” she bit out. “Believe me, given the choice I wouldn't want you there either, I would want you as far away from Beacon Hills as possible, in fact _I_ would want to be as far away from Beacon Hills _and_ you as possible. But we can’t always get what we want and Scott is smart enough to realise that he needs you. You and Allison,” she added on a little quieter.

“Allison?” Hugo frowned from the bed where he and Logan were watching the two brunettes face off with interest and a smidge of confusion. “Why does he need Allison in particular?”

Cora sighed and gave Stiles a pointed look.

“The Nemeton,” Allison ended up whispering when no one else replied and Cora gave a sharp, brief nod. Stiles was frozen in place, knuckles white on the ends on the armrests.

“You need to come back,” Cora repeated.

“Why would I willingly take the people I hold closest to my heart back into a places as _toxic_ and _dangerous_ as Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked, somewhat appalled at what Cora was asking of him. “Why don't you all just _leave_?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Stiles! You know exactly why we can't just _leave_! For fucks sake, you’re not the only one who’s lost people Stiles! You’re not the only one who’s lost someone!” Cora yelled, smashing the lamp off the chest of draws in anger, pain etched onto her face as her eyes flashed electric blue. “I can’t lose anyone else,” she choked out, fists balled beside her and head down. “I can’t.”

“He’ll hate you for bringing me back,” Stiles finally uttered, voice void of emotion and they both know they are not talking about Scott anymore.

“Scott was very adamant that you weren’t ever to be allowed on Beacon Hills territory again. And there are only two people in the pack that can make Scott change his mind once he’s decided something and one of them is Lydia and she is fully against ever seeing you again,” Cora explained in a rather round about way. “He’s the other and now I’m standing here. That should say it all, shouldn't it?”

Stiles wasn't quite sure how to process that. Wasn't sure what it means. Wasn't sure what he _wanted_ it to mean. But it didn't really matter, did it. Because at the end of the day, if he wanted Stiles to come back, Stiles had very little will power to go against that. And maybe Cora knew that, maybe she was lying. But he didn't know that and there was just as much of a chance that she wasn't. So really, Stiles didn't have a choice. Wasn't sure he ever really had one.

Allison must know this too because the next thing he knows, the door is slamming shut behind her disappearing figure.

∞

“Now I get why Stiles is so adamant about not using motels,” Hugo mumbled around a mouthful of snickers as they passed the city limits. “They really are too easy to track down.”

“I’m pretty sure she just used her nose,” Carmen argued from the back seat, pinching a crisp from the bag Jackson had reluctantly indulged in.

“In a city that size? You’ve got to be joking,” he responded, slapping her hand away. “Danny could’ve probably hacked the servers and tracked us down but it’s more likely he just put a tracking device on one of the cars,” Jackson shrugged.

“You don't seem too bother by the idea someone _tracked_ us,” Carmen narrowed her eyes at him.

“It’s Danny,” was Jackson’s reply, as if that explained everything.

“What’s the deal with you two anyway? Old high school sweethearts?” Hugo teased, winking at him in the rearview mirror. Jackson only shrugged because _no_ , they had never been anything more than friends. Technically. “Awh, did Jackson have an ickle crush in high school,” Hugo continued to tease but Jackson just tuned him out, gazes focusing on something outside the blur of raindrops on the window. He wasn't scared to being going back. Well, he _was_ but nothing like when he first realised where Stiles was taking them. Going back had been nowhere near as bad as he had anticipated. Surprising. But not bad.

“To be fair, if you didn't have me you would probably be all over someone like Danny as well,” Logan pointed out, not taking his eyes off the road. Hugo pondered it for a moment because, well, _yeah_.

“Good thing I have you then, isn’t it,” he chuckled.

“Always,” Logan smiled and Carmen made a gagging noise behind him.

∞

“So,” Cora muttered into the somewhat awkward atmosphere of the Toyota. “Are you going to tell me why you decided to hop in my car rather than go with Stiles and Allison?” she asked at length, after Renn offered no explanation for her presence in Cora’s car during the twenty minutes it had taken them to get out of the city.

“Like hell was I going to sit for seven hours in a car with those two not speaking again,” Renn snorted. “I’m thinking of offering my place up to someone from the Defender but I doubt anyone will take it,” she sighed.

“You’re Stiles’ second, aren’t you?” Cora frowned and Renn nodded. “Aren’t you the youngest though?”

“By a fair bit,” Renn agreed. “Only seventeen, next youngest is Hugo and he’s already twenty-three,” she explained.

“Then how come you’re Stiles’ second?”

“Dunno, that’s just the way valravne work – it’s like an innate thing,” Renn shrugged. “Guess it makes it a bit more complicated because we have wolves and a human too, that’s pretty rare for valravne, usually only mates are allowed to be part of the group but Hugo and Logan haven’t mated yet and Jackson isn’t mated to anyone and neither is Allison, so I guess we’re just a bit weird. But yeah, makes it a bit complicated with hierarchies ‘cause the valravne all have their set, innate positions but the others have to try and slot in – made it a bit awkward for me and Allison at the beginning as she couldn't understand why her place was being taken by someone complete new and inexperienced,” Renn rambled.

“So Allison used to be his second?” Cora frowned. “Does that mean Stiles met her first? Before the other valravne?”

“No, he only found her about a year and a half before he found me, which was in May 2018,” she informed her, perfectly aware that Cora was snooping for details and willing to give her a few. What harm could it do after all? It was just a little amusing how Cora was trying to be subtle.

“So who did he find first?”

“Well, he was _found_ by Carmen and- well… they saved him from some rabid creature, I’m pretty sure they make it more graphic every time they tell the story but they saved him and, um, well changed him. Wasn’t even on purpose I don’t think – most valravne are born you see, so changed valravne are pretty rare and no one is completely sure exactly _how_ it happens. Which makes us even _rarer_ because we don’t only have one changed valravne, but _three_. Which is practically unheard of apparently.”

“Are you changed or born?” Cora found herself asking, curiosity piqued.

“Changed obviously, Stiles changed both me and Hugo – Carmen was the born one.”

“Right. So, how does the shifting stuff work? I take it you can all do that whole body transformation thing?”

“Yeah, that’s the easiest, it’s actually much harder to only change bits of yourself. Stiles can do it obviously and he’s definitely the most impressive being the Alpha and all, he’s got these huge wings that are literally meters long when he extends them and he can change other little things as well, give himself talons, make feathers grow in certain places, give himself a beak and so on… I can just about manage to give myself some wings but they aren’t nearly as impressive as Stiles’. Carmen’s pretty good as well though, I guess because she’s born she’s had more time to practice, I just don’t have the patience.”

“Do you all have purple eyes like Stiles?” Cora asked and there was a greater meaning behind her words than Renn knew she was trying to let on. _Was there anyway to tell the innocent_. Gold and blue. That’s what it was for wolves.

“Only the Alpha’s eyes are purple,” Renn explained. “Carmen has green eyes; Hugo and I have silver,” she ended up settling for.

“Because Carmen is born?” Cora hedged and Renn only shrugged, avoiding an answer as best she could. “Or because Carmen is innocent and you and Hugo aren’t?” Cora asked after a beat, determined to get an answer now that she had come this far.

“It’s more complicated for valravne then for wolves,” Renn sighed. “Wolves eyes turn blue if they take an innocent life, for valravne, your eyes only change if you exact a vendetta. The rules are pretty hazy, as with most things about us – honestly, I don’t understand most of it myself and I _am_ one.”

“So you and Hugo have exacted a vendetta?” Cora pushed.

“No. We haven’t,” Renn bit out. “And I am not going to ask about your blue eyes so you aren’t going to ask about ours any further, okay?”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Cora muttered, briefly lifting her hands from the wheel in a gesture of surrender.

“I know you’re prying by the way,” Renn snorted.

“Can you really blame me?” Cora raised an eyebrow.

“Fair. But that means you have to give me something in return,” Renn bargained.

“How much do you already know?”

“The bare basics plus whatever else Stiles deems fit to murmur in his sleep,” the blonde woman shrugged.

“Are you and Stiles, like…”

“What? Oh! _Oh_ … no, no, no,” Renn laughed, doubling over a little. “I’m ace – asexual,” she got out at last. “Aromantic too. I’m literally the only one of us Stiles _hasn't_ slept with!” she continued to laugh.

“What!” Cora slammed on the breaks unnecessarily hard as they came up to a junction. “Stiles has slept with _all_ of you?” she asked, in horrified awe.

“Except me, yeah at one point or another,” Renn giggled at the expression of sheer disbelief on Cora’s face. “Although I’m the only one who knows about Carmen so please don't bring that up, I shouldn't have told you that,” she added on suddenly, face much more serious.

“Right, okay, of course but _seriously_?” Cora gasped, putting the car back into drive and pulling away. “I thought they were kidding when they made a joke about Stiles and Jackson the other day!”

“Oh those two have been fucking on and off since they bumped into each other in London back in early 2016,” Renn chuckled as Cora’s face went through a series of different expressions in rapid succession, settling back into disbelief after a few moments.

“But what about Hugo and Logan, aren’t they a couple?”

“Mm hmmm,” Renn nodded, enjoying herself a little too much if she is honest with herself. “Hugo joined a little after Jackson and they messed around a bit too, pretty sure there was a very drunken threesome involved at some point which they all resolutely pretend never happened.”

“Oh my god,” Cora’s voice was higher pitched than Renn had heard so far.

“And then Stiles actually brought Logan back for a one night stand when we were in Argentina once and the morning after Hugo made him pancakes and that was that, love at first sight or something equally sickening,” Renn laughed and Cora stared fixedly at the road.

“And Allison?” she eventually asked, the mood taking another turn to serious.

“Only a few times, always when they’re both going through a bad stage, they never talk about it and to be honest I think they both tend to regret it a little after it happens – Stiles once told me all about it after almost an entire bottle of whiskey. Said he wished he could fall in love with her, wished they weren’t both so fucked up,” Renn told the now silent car.

“I shouldn't be telling you this but I just…” she continued with a frown. “Stiles is such a good person and I know he’s done things that don't fit with that description but he really is, deep down in his heart and those things haunt him still. It’s like… Stiles is like my brother and I know you’re pretty protective over yours and I’m pretty protective over him and… He isn’t as tough and untouchable as he likes to think he is. Whatever happened in Beacon Hills before he left still haunts him every single day and he isn’t okay. No matter how good he is at pretending. So yeah, he seeks comfort in other peoples beds to an extent that probably isn’t healthy but it's the way he copes,” she shrugged, biting her lip.

Cora didn't say anything for a long while and Renn thought that the conversation had come to an end, an uncomfortable one but an end nonetheless until Cora let a humorless snort slip out. “Well that’s horribly ironic,” she mused but said nothing more.


	11. The Strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's been too long. Please forgive me.
> 
> WARNING: Just thought I'd mention at the start (although its a bit spoiler-y so don't read this if you don't want to know) there is sex in this chapter and whilst they are both consenting, they are also both in a fragile emotional state and it is possibly not the best idea ever.

    

    

    

[ _Lydia McCall_ ](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143057117138/lydia-mccall-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn)

**The Strategy**

To say the atmosphere was stifling would be a gross understatement. The kitchen of the Hale House – or rather, Scott and Lydia’s house – was dead silent as the six people gathered around it stared awkwardly at various furnishings about the room in an effort not to make eye contact. Allison’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly on the closed door, Renn’s on the window. Across the table from them, Lydia was fidgeting in a manner Stiles has never witnessed from her before whilst Scott had reached out one hand to hold hers. Cora was slumped back in her chair, inspecting her nails and trying to look nonchalant.

“So…” Renn eventually broke the silence. “As lovely as this is, Cora said you needed our help and I’m pretty sure we can't help you unless you can in some way communicate what exactly the problem is. Also – maybe a thank you for helping you with your last problem would be a good way to start before we offer any more help,” she snorted. Scott’s eyes flashed red in her direction, to which she merely raised an eyebrow.

“I was under the impression that Derek Hale was your third – not his sister,” Allison interjected when no one responded.

“Derek’s indisposed,” Cora sneered.

“The attack from the Imps and the wolf pack before them are not uncommon occurrences,” Lydia interjected, finally pulling herself together. “All manner of supernatural creatures having been coming to Beacon Hills with increasing frequency ever since the Nemeton was awoken several years ago,” she explained.

“What’s a Nemeton?” Renn interrupted.

“It’s a place where telluric currents converge, the one in Beacon Hills was dormant until the sacrifice of a virgin took place there and it was later brought back to full power by the sacrificial deaths of Scott, Stiles and Allison,” Lydia rattled off.

“It acts like a beacon to the supernatural,” Stiles elaborated. “It’s probably where Beacon Hill’s got its name – it's a sacred place, often used by Druids for certain rituals.”

“And you gave it power? By dying?” Renn clarified, eyebrows raised at Stiles. “You might have to explain that bit to me later.”

“It has to be shut down,” Lydia stated. “And only those who gave it power can take it away again.”

“But first we have to deal with whatever the hell was chasing the Imps here, because as powerful as the Nemeton is, it doesn't draw creatures here in a hurry, they come at their own pace – those Imps were definitely running from something,” interjected Cora. “Lydia and Louisa have spent hours in the library and not come up with anything and Danny and Carrie haven’t been able to get anything useful from our usual sources.”

“Well have you been looking at just the specifics? Or the larger picture as well?” Stiles frowned. “It could potentially be something that doesn't just chase off Imps but something that terrifies all manner of supernatural creatures.”

“Well then it could be anything,” Lydia sniped.

“When was the last time you renewed your wards?” Stiles asked, causing the three people across the table to frown. “When I passed through them the other day they were pretty weak.”

“We don’t have an emissary,” Cora snorted, not meeting Stiles’ eyes.

“Deaton?”

“Vanished,” Scott shrugged. “We’ve hired some emissaries to replace the wards a couple of times and we’re scheduled to have them renewed in a few months I think,” he looked to Lydia, who gave a curt nod.

“I’ll do it,” Stiles decided. “And I’ll put up some new ones around the peripheries of the town. Renn and Hugo can go and scout the area and see if they can get any clues what might be coming this way. Get Danny to monitor regional news outlets for anything suspicious – Is Chris still in contact with Calavera?” Lydia nodded. “Good, see if she knows anything that could be useful.”

“There’s no need to get anyone else involved,” Scott interjected.

“Calavera knows more about the supernatural world than you or I probably ever will – she might not understand fully how it works but she’ll know what creatures fear,” the other Alpha argued.

“If I say she isn’t getting involved, then she isn’t getting involved,” Scott growled.

“If Chris is still in contact with her then why the hell not? We need all the information sources we can get.”

“Well we would _have_ had a information source if you hadn’t _slaughtered_ them all!” Scott yelled, red faced and shoving his chair backwards as he stood up to slam his clawed hands down on the table.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked in bafflement.

“It would have been very easy to find out what the Imps were running from if we had any Imps _left_ to question,” the wolf growled, eyes flashing red. “But we don’t. Because you killed _all of them_.”

“We eliminate the threat, _its what we do_ ,” Stiles retaliated, refusing to let Scott’s outburst unsettle him, even when he could feel both Allison and Renn tense either side of him.

“Yeah, you and your little Supernatural FBI unit,” he snorted condescendingly. “Thanks to you, we have no idea what those Imps were running from.”

“If we want Intel, we get it _ourselves_ , rather than torturing some misbegotten creature,” Stiles hissed, causing Scott to wince. “Besides, they were Imps, they would have just given you some cryptic answer that would have led you in completely the wrong direction and you would have probably been _less_ prepared than if you figured it yourself.”

“You just let them all _burn_ ,” Scott accused, making Cora shift uncomfortably.

“No I didn't, I let the buildings burn – the Imps were already dead.”

“What with just a click of your fingers, you gave all the Imps in that building a humane death before blowing it up?”

“Pretty much,” Stiles shrugged. “Imps are irrational – they are a threat to humans and only cause trouble, whether it was here, or somewhere else.”

“You slaughtered almost _a hundred_ of them-”

“So if only three had attacked and I had killed them all, that wouldn't have been a problem?”

“Boys! Let’s leave the moral debates to a later date shall we,” Lydia snapped. “First we’ll see if your scouts can gather anything of use, or if anything pops up from Danny’s searches and if that leads us nowhere then we can re-discuss Calavera. I suggest everyone stays on alert, as we have absolutely no idea how far away this next threat is. So unless anyone else has anything useful to say, I am going back to the library,” she finished, pushing her chair back just as sharply as Scott had done before striding out of the room without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

“Someone will be in touch if we find anything,” Stiles deadpanned, standing up himself. “Alpha McCall, Cora.” Before either of them respond, Stiles disappeared through the door and back out to the Wrangler with Renn and Allison close behind him.

“Jeez, were they always such assholes,” Renn whistled.

“Cora was born an asshole,” Stiles snorted. “You two head back to the others and fill them in, there’s something I need to do before I decided whether we’re actually going to stay,” he added, stealing himself. Renn nodded and climbs into the driver’s seat but Allison paused and gave him a meaningful look. “I’ll be fine A,” he promised.

∞

Landing in a deserted parking lot next to the building, Stiles steadied himself for what could only be a horrifying encounter ahead of him. But he had to do it. If he was going to stay he couldn't keep avoiding him forever. The stairs creaked beneath his feet just as they used to, the elevator still in disrepair. One, two, three, four, five. Six.

His internal debate about whether or not to knock or just enter was thrown out the window as Stiles came to a stop in front of the open door, Derek leaning casually against the frame. The younger boy’s breath got caught in his lungs. Heart beating wildly in vain.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed.

“Stiles,” came the reply.

The two stood at an impasse, both taking the other in whilst trying desperately not to, before Derek finally stepped back and motioned for Stiles to enter. The loft hadn’t changed much since Stiles was last there. The same dirty ceiling high windows letting in the fading evening light, the same random assortment of furniture from dumpster pick ups to expressive Italian wood. There was a new sofa. And the hole in the wall had been semi-repaired.

“They want us to stay, for a while at least – until we shut the Nemeton down,” Stiles ended up rushing out, waving his hand absentmindedly. Derek didn't respond. “I need to know if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay with me?” the older man repeated. “What have I got to do with it? Scott’s the Alpha what he says goes-”

“I don't give a damn about Scott,” Stiles snapped.

“Oh and you give a damn about me?” came the utterly disbelieving reply.

“I need to know if you are okay with me being in Beacon Hills for the foreseeable future,” Stiles repeated, breathing deeply.

“And why the fuck do you suddenly care about _my_ opinion?” Derek sneered.

“Because I do.”

“Well you sure as hell didn't when you just upped and fucking left without so much as a backward glance or a goodbye,” he spat out, eyes flashing a brilliant electric blue. “You didn't give a damn when you walked out of my life without a fucking trace or a clue as to whether you were even still _alive_ …”

“I did what I had to do!” Stiles snapped.

“What you _had_ to do? No. You did what you _wanted_ ,” he seethed. “You didn't think twice about walking out on everyone here. Didn't think twice about leaving all of us behind. This isn’t just about _me_ Stiles. This is about _everyone_.”

“I did what I had to do and there was no way I could come back after that.”

“You were a coward,” Derek accused.

“If you don’t want me here, I’m gone. Just say the word.”

“So you can up and leave everyone all over again? Do you have _any_ idea what you put them through? What you put Scott through? And Lydia?”

“This isn’t about them Derek!” Stiles yelled and was reward with the other man completely wolfing out, neck cricking as his face contorted in on itself, claws and fangs piercing through. Stiles could feel his magic simmering beneath the surface, sparks and black smoke beginning to dance in the air around him.

Before Stiles really realised what’s happening, he had Derek pinned against the wall of his loft, the older man thrashing in his grasp. “You fucking left them!” he growled.

“I left _you_ ,” Stiles corrected. “I left _you_ – that’s what you really mean.”

“You were- a fucking… _coward_ ,” Derek panted, body heaving under Stiles. The hot line of his back was pressed against Stiles’ front, arms pinned either side of his head by Stiles’ spindly fingers. “You just _left_.”

“I did what I had to do,” Stiles repeated once again, breathe hot on Derek’s neck and _fuck_ it has been so long since they had touched.

“Does repeating it help you sleep at night,” the wolf snarled.

“If I didn't believe it, I wouldn't have gotten so far,” Stiles confessed, pressing Derek harder into the wall, not for any real display of power but more out of that age-old craving. That craving that had led to all of this to begin with.

“So you tell yourself lies to live with the guilt,” Derek spat out. And the truth of his words hit Stiles like an eruption. Hands too busy pinning Derek to hit him, Stiles resorted to sinking his teeth into the junction where Derek’s neck meet his shoulder. Aiming to cause pain. Physical pain. The pain that healed.

“Stiles,” Derek whimpered. And god, wasn't that a sound.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Stiles whispered, lips grazing Derek’s ear.

“I never did,” Derek breathed, shuddering beneath him. Stiles let his lower lip catch on the shell of Derek’s ear, making him whine again. “Stiles.” Neither of them was sure whether it was a warning or an encouragement. But Derek did nothing to stop him as Stiles lowered his mouth to Derek’s skin behind his ear. It was not a kiss. It was not a bite. Just lips pressed into the bone.

“Der,” Stiles choked out, hands squeezing Derek’s wrists as he pushed his body harder against Derek’s and how the hell did they get here?

“Please,” the wolf whimpered and that’s really all the encouragement Stiles needed.

He brought Derek’s wrists together above his head, holding them in place whilst the other went for his belt, unbuckling it and flicking open the buttons of his trousers. Derek panted heavily as Stiles pushed his trousers and underwear down, wrapping a cool hand around his hot and heavy dick and grinding against Derek’s ass.

“Stiles,” he whined.

“Don’t move,” Stiles ordered, voice steely as he let going of Derek’s wrists and made quick work of his own trousers and underwear, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket first and extracting the packet of lube, discarding the condom as neither of them could catch diseases. It took no time for him to lube up his fingers and lower them to Derek’s entrance, resting them there lightly. Waiting.

“Please Stiles,” Derek begged and Stiles didn't really have any choice. Pressing more firmly, he breached Derek’s rim with one finger, pushing in to the knuckle. Slowly he pumped it in and out. Gently massaging Derek’s walls. “ _Stiles_ ,” he begged again and Stiles acquiesced with another finger, stretching him out. “Need you in me,” Derek gasped when the younger man brushed his fingertips just next to that spot. “Need you-”

“Shhh,” Stiles whispered, mouthing at his ear lobe. “Patience.”

“Stiles!” Derek moaned as he adds a third finger. “ _Please_.”

“Listen to you,” Stiles crooned, continuing to stroke Derek’s insides.

“Please, please, please,” the older man chanted, completely gone on the feeling of Stiles long fingers inside of him and his hot breath on his neck. Finally Stiles gave in and withdrew his fingers, dragging out a mournful moan from the wolf. He slicked himself up with the remains of the lube and tossed the packet on the ground before pressing the tip of his cock against Derek’s hole. “Fuck me,” Derek gasped.

Stiles didn't need to be told twice and thrust inside Derek in one sharp move, pulling a gut-wrenching moan from the man beneath him. And he didn't stop. Thrust in and out in rapid succession, ripping moan after moan from the wolf.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he screamed when he finally hit his prostate. “ _Fuck_ -” another thrust. “Oh god! Oh _god_! Fuck- Please, _please_ , Stiles! Stiles!” Derek screamed, thrusting his own hips back to meet Stiles’. “Oh. _Oh_.” Stiles returned his hands to Derek’s wrists, moving them up and link his fingers through Derek’s as he held him against the wall, driving into him incessantly.

“Stiles,” Derek panted. “I need… Need-”

Stiles sunk his blunt teeth into Derek’s neck once more.

“Ah, ah, ahhh,” Derek gasped and came all over the wall in front of him with a resounding: “Stiles!”

It took only a few more thrusts before Stiles was coming inside of him, teeth still sunken in Derek’s neck to prevent any sound coming out.

They both stood there, eyes closed, legs shaking and breath heavy.

Finally, Stiles pulled out and pulled his trousers and pants back up, re-buckling his belt.

“You haven’t answered my question,” was all he said.

“You can stay,” Derek replied.

And then Stiles was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that escalated...


	12. The Reacquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler but you get to know some other characters a little better.

    

    

    

_[Jackson Whittemore](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143057233328/jackson-whittemore-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The** ** Reacquaintance **

Stiles really wished he could say that this was the first time he had been pinned to a wall by his neck by a furious and wolfed out Cora Hale but that would be a lie.

“If we didn't need you to shutdown the Nemeton, make no mistake – I would claw your throat out right here, right now,” she growled, electric blue eyes inches from Stiles’ own, claws pressing puncture wounds into the skin of his neck. Stiles decided not to mention that the only reason she had in him the position she currently did was because he was letting her.

“If it weren’t for this Nemeton thing, we wouldn't have come back,” Renn pointed out from where she was leaning against the doorframe, watching the situation unfold. “Besides, you shouldn't threaten homicide unless you are actually going to follow through as people will stop believing you and the threat becomes inane.”

“Do you have any idea what he’s _done_ ,” Cora growled, not looking away from Stiles.

“I do have a rather good sense of smell, so yes,” Renn wrinkled her nose, unimpressed.

“I shouldn't have let you anywhere _near_ him,” she spat out. “Dammit, I _knew_ where you were going when you took off. I should have stopped you! Do you have any idea what you've _done_ ,” she repeated. “When you left he was _destroyed_. And now you come back and you do _this_? I found him curled up in a corner, shaking _hours_ after you’d gone!”

“It wasn't like I _planned_ it,” Stiles finally snapped. “It was a stupid, _stupid_ mistake but it’s done now and I hate myself for it but that isn’t going to change the fact that it _happened_.”

“Just stay _away_ from him!” Cora yelled.

“I won’t seek him out again on my own, you have my word,” Stiles promised and by god did he hope he could keep it. “Not unless absolutely necessary,” he amended.

“If you hurt him again, the Nemeton can fuck itself – I _will_ tear you apart,” Cora snarled before shoving him roughly against the wall again and withdrawing her hand and storming out of the room.

Stiles slumped against the wall massaging his neck where the punctures were already fading. Renn raised a judging eyebrow.

“I’m fully aware that I don't have the full picture here but even I can tell that fucking this Derek guy was probably not a good idea,” she finally stated once Cora was out of earshot.

“You think I don't _know_ that,” he snapped.

“But you did it anyway?”

“I didn't plan it,” he repeated. “It just… It just _happened_.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened with this guy? Because I’m supposed to be your second Stiles – I’m supposed to know this shit. At the very least, I’m your _friend_ ,” she accused, face breaking from its customary carefree expression to one of concern and hurt. Because Stiles knew every single secret she had ever had. But apparently that wasn't a two way street.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, sliding his back down the wall until he hit the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“You don't _have_ to tell me,” Renn sighed, coming to sit beside him. “But you know you _can_ , right? If you want to.”

“What do you want me to say? We fucked once – right before I left. It was a mistake,” Stiles bit out harshly, trying not to wince at his own words.

“If you expect me to believe that’s all, you’re doing a shit job at convincing me,” Renn mused, judgmental eyebrow back in place. “You may have only fucked once but clearly he meant something to you. And you definitely meant something to him.”

“It doesn't matter now,” Stiles breathed, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes against the flickering light of one of the torches Logan and Hugo had hung up around the place.

“Was he the reason you left?” she asked after a moment.

“It wasn't his fault,” was all Stiles could say.

“Did you love him?” Renn’s voice was soft in the growing darkness.

Stiles didn't reply. And that said it all really.

∞

“Stiles! We’ve got visitors!” Carmen yelled up the stairway as if Stiles hadn’t been lying awake the entire night, listening out for any sign of a threat. Four sets of footsteps. Three wolves. One kitsune. Kira.

By the time the four of them reached the clearing in which the dilapidated building was situated, Stiles was waiting for them in the doorway, Carmen and Hugo with a chin on each of this shoulders. Flashing a grin and a slight wave, Danny approached the house first, Isaac, Kira and the blonde woman, Carrie, in his wake.

“Morning,” Danny greeted. “Kira here was gutted she missed the barbeque so insisted we come and see you, Isaac and I are just along for the ride but Carrie said you probably needed someone to look into the electrics and stuff for the house. She’s just a mechanic but knows a bit about electrics,” Danny explained.

“Hi!” Carrie smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Stiles?” a timid voice asked, interrupting Stiles’ reply before he could form it. Kira was standing a little back from Danny and Carrie with Isaac, looking uncertain.

“Kira,” Stiles said softly, a sad sort of smile forcing its way onto his face. She hadn't changed a bit. Still quirky outfits and messy hair, bright eyes. She had a few streaks of red in her hair now though. “Hey.”

Before anyone could really register it, Kira was shoving her way passed the others and flinging her arms around Stiles waist, clinging on and burying her face in his chest. Stiles could do nothing but bring his arms up around her in return, cradling her to him affectionately. God he hadn’t even realised how much he had missed her.

“Holy shit,” Kira finally squeaked out. “You’re actually back! I half convinced myself they were trying to pull some sick prank when they told me!”

“That’s pretty messed up,” Stiles chuckled, hugging her tighter.

“And you fucking left again without saying goodbye!” she accused, pulling back slightly to thump him on the chest.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologised. “I’m sorry.”

“As lovely as this is, can we come inside?” Isaac eventually huffed, scuffing his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, come on in,” Stiles nodded, stepping to the side, one arm still over Kira’s shoulders. “Carrie you are more than welcome to look at the electrics but I have a feeling there’s no saving them, we’re probably going to have to just get a generator,” Stiles added.

“Here, I can show you if you like though,” Logan offered from where he had appeared behind Hugo. Carrie nodded enthusiastically and the older werewolf led her in the direction of the basement.

Stiles led the others into the kitchen area, which Logan had cleared up somewhat, explaining that the sofa in the lounge had collapsed when Jackson had sat in it that morning. Kira stuck close to Stiles, staring at him in wonder every now and then, as if she couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was really there. The two of them had grown very close in the months before Stiles had left that his sudden disappearance had hit her hard but she knew that he had only left because he felt like that was what he needed to do; she understood that he hadn’t _meant_ to hurt any of them by leaving. She could forgive him in ways that perhaps those who had known him longer couldn't and she could understand him better than those who had known him less well could.

“Danny?” Jackson suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Hello,” the other man dimpled.

“Jackson, this is Kira – she joined the pack just after you left,” Stiles introduced them, pulling Jackson’s attention away from his childhood best friend.

“Hi,” he nodded in greeting and Kira smiled warmly at him, despite the stories Isaac had been regaling them with about him on their way over.

“I’m Hugo, by the way – since Stiles has forgotten to introduce you to the rest of us,” the redhead snorted, sending her a little wave. “That’s Carmen and the work of art showing Carrie the electrics is my boyfriend Logan,” he explained.

“Nice to meet you,” Kira grinned.

“Well aren’t you the cutest,” Carmen teased, tugging lightly on a strand of Kira’s hair. “And a Kitsune… been a long time since I’ve seen one of you,” she chuckled.

“Carmen, stop trying to scare her,” chastised Stiles.

“It’s alright – I’ve lived around Lydia long enough to be used to it,” Kira laughed in return.

“Are you trying to insinuate that I am anything like _that_ woman?” the redhead queried, clearly offended. Lydia and Scott had so far – and with good reason – proved the most distrusting and distant of their pack and it hadn’t won them any favours with the valravne.

“You have no idea,” Jackson snorted. “I used to be convinced that you and Lydia were twins separated at birth and I had just had the misfortune of dumping into both of you. Now I’ve come to realised that Lydia could never be related to someone who doesn't view a hairbrush as a necessity.”

“Fuck you,” Carmen sniped, tucking one of her unruly curls behind her ear self-consciously.

“Shut up Jackson, we all know it was Carmen’s curls that ultimately persuaded you to join us,” Stiles laughed. “There’s no way you’d have left London without something beautiful to temp you away.”

“That may be so but I can assure you it wasn't Carmen’s curls,” the other man responded, voice light but eyes cast down.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Danny interjected. “Lydia would probably kill me for saying this but she and Louisa can't find anything in the library and absolutely nothing is popping up for me either. Please tell me you guys have at least _something_?”

“Pretty much nothing,” Hugo interjected. “Renn and I scouted for miles earlier but all we came up with was that the weird silence that we first noticed when we entered Beacon Hills is still there, like seriously – where have all your animals gone?”

“The woods have been practically deserted for months,” Isaac shrugged. “It happened so slowly that the rest of the town haven’t really noticed it much.”

“But why would all the animals flee?”

“There’s been so much shit passing through here, it's a miracle the people haven’t left yet.”

“Okay so that doesn't really help us then,” Hugo snorted. “Is there nothing even _remotely_ weird happening in the region?” he turned back to Danny.

“Not really, nothing that screams ‘supernatural’ anyway,” Danny shrugs. “There’s a slightly higher than normal suicide rate on the peripheries but they’re all actual suicides, nothing weird about them and the increase is really only tiny,” he explained.

“Keep an eye on them anyway, if the rate goes up any further we might have something,” Stiles instructed. “But for now – well, I guess we just wait,” he shrugged.

∞

“Mel, come on,” Chris sighed trying to pull Melissa’s attention away from where she was slamming pan around in her kitchen. “He was just trying to protect you!”

“ _Protect_ me!” she yelled, banging one saucepan especially hard on the counter. “He lied to me Chris! For _seven years_!”

“He just didn't want you to worry,” Chris argued.

“He didn't have the _right_ ,” she seethed, finally relinquishing the pan and sinking into the barstool at the kitchen island. “He didn't have the right. All this time I’ve been assuming that Stiles was fine, I could understand that he didn't want to come back, I was mad at him when he didn't show at Scott’s wedding but I _understood_. But now… Now I know he wasn't even _invited_? That Scott had absolutely no idea where he was? All this time? Stiles could’ve been dead for all that we knew.”

“But he wasn't,” Chris replied fiercely, coming around the island and grabbing Melissa gently by the upper arms. “He wasn’t dead and he’s back now. It wasn't your fault Mel, you had no idea. You were giving him space – which is exactly what he wanted. It’s not your fault that Scott lied to you about keeping in touch with him but you shouldn't blame him, Mel… He was just trying to protect you, stop you from worrying.”

“I promise John that if anything- if anything happened to him, I would look after Stiles,” Melissa gasped, tears threatening as she stared fixedly at her lap. “I _promised_ him. And I didn't keep that promise. Stiles has been on his own for _seven_ _years_ with no one looking out for him because I was naïve enough to take my son’s word for it that he was okay.”

“You can’t think like that – you trusted your son, that’s what we would all have done,” Chris promised her. “And Stiles is fine, he’s back and you can look after him _now_. He chose to come back Mel, maybe not the second time but he definitely chose to come back initially. Maybe he’s ready to move on,” he suggested hopefully.

“But he’s not fine though, is he,” Melissa whispered. “Just look at him Chris – I barely recognised him. He’s not fine, he’s not _healthy_. He’s gaunt and pale and skinny.”

“Now you just sound like a mother,” Chris snorted. “He’s not that skinny, he’s got a lot more muscle on him than I remember but he’s always been pale and I don't think anything’s ever going to change that.”

The two of them sat in silence a little longer, Melissa staring at her hands and wondering if she would ever be able to forgive herself for not looking out for Stiles more, for not looking for him when he left. He was like her son and when he had gone… things just hadn’t been the same. And she needed to fix it.

But she wasn't the only one who had lost someone. Wasn't the only one who had a piece of their heart wandering miles away without a word.

“How long’s it been?” she asked gently, changing the subject from one painful one to another. “Since you last saw her?”

“Almost a decade,” Chris sighed. “She won't even look at me.”

“What a pair we make,” she chuckled humourlessly. “Two fucked up parents who failed their kids.”

The silence lasted a little longer this time.

“Come on,” Chris eventually nudged her. “Where’s that stew you promised me?”

∞

It had been years since Jackson had set foot in the Mahealani’s house. Keliana, Danny’s mother, had welcomed him in with one of her bone crushing hugs, surprise written clear as day across her face but a warm smile letting him know it wasn't an unwelcome one. Danny’s sisters had promised to bake him a welcome back cake (although Alyssa had given him a very suspicious glare for the first five minutes).

Now though, they were in Danny’s room, shuttered away from the Mahealani women’s enthusiasm. Nothing much had changed in the ten years Jackson had been gone and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

“I’ve been saving for my own place for over five years now,” Danny chuckled. “Could probably buy a massive house on the outskirts of town with the money I’ve set aside but I can’t quite bring myself to move out and into an empty place all on my own,” he confessed.

“What about Mason? You could ask him to live with you?” Jackson suggested, wandering around the room and nosing about. Danny didn't seem to mind so he saw no reason to stop.

“I spend most of my time at Mason’s to be honest, he Brett and Liam rent an apartment in town. Not sure we’re quite ready to official move in together though.”

“How long’ve you been together?”

“About four years, give or take – depends when you classify ‘starting’ a relationship, there was a lot of fucking involved before feelings,” Danny shrugged, fiddling with the edges of the blanket on his bed.

“Four years and you’re not sure you’re ready to move in together?” Jackson snorted disbelievingly.

“And since when were you the expert on relationships,” his best friend laughed. “Unless of course, you’ve become a relationship guru since you left,” Danny added on as an afterthought, suddenly aware that he didn't really know his best friend that well anymore.

“Absolutely not,” Jackson stated with certainty, shaking his head.

“Really? No one?” Danny pried.

“The last person I had anything resembling a relationship with was Lydia and that was ten years ago,” the blond huffed out self-depreciatingly. “I don’t do relationships.”

“So you and Stiles…?” he hedged, curiosity piqued after Hugo’s comment at the barbeque the other day.

“We fuck. That’s it,” Jackson shrugged.

“And there are no feelings involved?” Danny asked, eyebrow raised, seeing right through him like he always had.

“Stiles doesn't do feelings,” Jackson chuckled darkly.

“But you do?”

“Yeah… I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughtsie, thoughtsies...? 
> 
> Also I may have gotten bored and created a [tumblr](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/) especially for this fic, so come and check it out.


	13. The Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day. Hope you enjoy.

    

    

    

_[Danny Mahealani](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143059816633/danny-mahealani-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Clan**

Tripping over a protruding root, Mason scrambled back to his feet, breaths leaving him in short pants. He didn't stop, didn't dare look behind him to where he could hear a horrendous barrage of sounds coming from the forest. _Find the trail. Keep running_. He repeated the mantra in his head as he stumbled between the trees.

Trolls.

Fucking trolls.

How the fuck did everyone miss the _trolls_ heading their way?

A roar echoed behind him along with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a treeing being ripped forcefully from the earth and thrown against another. Lovely. Tripping once again, Mason blinked with the startling realization that he has found the path. Of course. Pushing himself back onto his feet he continued running (the now much less hazardous) route towards the house.

He was never going into the preserve again.

Ever.

When he felt like his ribs were going to crack with the effort it took to breath, the trees finally started to thin out and the old Hale House came into view. Sprinting the last few meters across the driveway, Mason launched himself through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

“Scott!” he yelled just as the Alpha came careering into the hallway.

“What the hell?”

“Trolls. There are fucking _trolls_ in the preserve,” Mason panted, trying desperately to regain his breath and promising himself he would make better use of his gym membership.

“What?” Scott frowned.

“There. Are. Trolls. In the preserve,” Mason repeated.

“Trolls? How? We’ve had wards put up and everyone’s keeping an eye out,” the Alpha continued to frown, steering the still panting Mason into the kitchen and pouring him a glass of water.

“Well I don't know what to tell you dude but there are definitely trolls in the preserve,” the younger man snorted before chugging the offered glass of water. “They must’ve been asleep or something, cause I was just walking through this clearing and I tripped over this fucking rock and the fucking thing moved and then this huge as boulder came at me and-”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Scott ordered, pulling out his phone and sending a group text to his pack. “Why were you running?”

“Because they were fucking chasing me!”

“What are you two yelling about?” Lydia asked, coming into the kitchen with Carrie and Brett.

“Are you alright dude?” Brett frowned down at a very sweaty Mason.

“I was just chased through the preserve by fucking _trolls_ , no I am not alright!” Mason huffed. Brett just chuckled and poured him another glass of water, chucking him a towel as well.

∞

“They can't be serious,” Carmen stated after Jackson finished relay the text Danny had received. “Trolls? We missed _trolls_?”

“That’s not the point, we can figure that out later,” Stiles huffed. “The point is that there’s an unusual amount of trolls in the preserve and Mason upset them so now we have to deal with them.”

“But we just had to deal with a fuck ton of Imps?” Renn moaned. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with this place.”

∞

 _There are eighteen trolls. Four young ones._ Renn relayed as Stiles drove the Wrangler up to a layby on the edge of the preserve near where the trolls were currently rampaging about. _The wolf pack is circling them._ Stiles hopped out of the Wrangler as the Land Rover pulled up behind him and Logan, Hugo, Carmen and Jackson poured out, a range of weaponry in their hands.

“Logan, have you got Renn’s grenades? We might need them,” Stiles frowned into the trees. Logan nodded, wrapping his Bolas around his waist. “Hugo, make sure you don’t get that chain stuck around any of their necks, that’ll just make them go crazier. Remember their skin is thicker than leather so try to aim spears and knives and such into their necks if it comes to that. Just try to knock them out, then we can decide what to do with them,” he ordered, making Carmen raise an eyebrow at him. “We’re on McCall turf,” Stiles shrugged in response.

 _They are agitated_ , Renn informed him. _I have never seen trolls like this before_.

“Something is clearly upsetting these guys, so they might not act as we expect,” Stiles huffed, fastening his sword brace onto his back. “Ready?” he asked and was met with a series of nods before they took off amongst the trees.

Trolls normally travelled in small groups, between two and four, or even sometimes on their own. Having eighteen trolls in one small area was not just uncommon but _unheard of_. They weren’t aggressive by nature either, only when threatened or severely unsettled. From what Stiles had gathered, Mason had probably tripped over one of the young ones, awakening the rest of them. But that didn't explains why there were so many in one place. Or why they were _still_ rampaging about even through that initial threat was gone and their senses were dim so they almost certainty hadn’t picked up on the wolves and other beings surrounding them.

 _They are not calming down_. Stiles leapt through the air and landed between Cora and Chris as the rest of them filled in other gaps in the circle the McCall pack had created. They arrived just in time as one of the trolls stumbled close enough to some of the wolves to smell them. Letting out a terrible screech, like rocks grinding against each other, the troll knocked over an entire tree that landed dangerously close to Erica, who growled in response.

Now that the trolls had realised they were surrounded, they became more panicked, destroying everything around them. Scott jumped first, landing on the back of one of the smaller, male trolls and sinking his claws into the softer skin there, tearing a gash through it. The troll flung his arms about, trying unsuccessfully to get Scott off as Isaac and Liam joined him, the latter wielding a heavy looking log that he tried to bring down on the troll’s head.

Erica, Brett and Carrie were the next to jump on a troll, trying to bring it to the ground and subdue it. Chaos erupted as the trolls lashed out blindly, knocking trees and wolves and whatever else out of their way. One troll was taken down by Carrie slamming a rock down on it’s head; another knocked out by Liam and his log; another whacked into a tree on its own accord and fell with a thump.

Stiles watched it all with keen eyes, scanning for anyone in need of help. Renn was distracting a troll from above, clawing at its unseeing eyes whilst Logan swung his Bolas, trying to aim for the troll’s temple. Carmen and Jackson had managed to separate another troll from the rest of the clan, Carmen riding on its shoulders in an attempt to strangle it into unconsciousness.

“Stiles!” Hugo yelled out as the troll he and Allison had been trying to bring down came barreling his way, Hugo’s chain tangled around his neck. Leaping to the side, he narrowly missed being squashed by the thing as Allison sunk her daggers into it’s jugular, causing thick brownish blood to come gushing out and bringing it down with a thump.

Another troll fell to Stiles’ left, a dent left in its head by the boulder Boyd had thrown at it. The troll Carmen and Jackson had been wresting finally slumped to the ground as well.

Slowly the trolls continued to fall until only the four youngsters remain huddled together with three of the biggest adult females guarding them. Brett was slouched against a fallen tree, gritting his teeth as Erica tried to rearrange the broken bone in his leg. Jordan was trying to stop blood gushing from a wound on his upper arm and Carmen was helping Jackson push his dislocated shoulder back in.

Three wolves jumped at one of the remaining trolls, leaping on its back and sides, aiming for its neck. Scott and Liam jumped on another whilst Isaac attempted to pester it towards a fallen tree in the hopes it would trip over it. Renn had begun pestering the final troll from the air as Logan, Allison and Hugo attacked it from the ground.

For a moment it looked like it was over, as the troll Scott was on crashed to the ground and Hugo sunk a knife into his troll’s neck.

Then a scream pierced through the grunts and thumps of the rest of the fight. The troll shook Hugo off and whacked Logan with a branch, sending him flying into a tree. Turning around, the troll joined the other that Chris, Derek and Cora had been trying to take down. Chris was cradling a clearly broken arm to his chest. Derek was lying on the ground only semi-conscious. And Cora-

Cora was stuck between the two remaining trolls and their young.

Everyone watched in horror as the larger of the two trolls picked up a tree effortlessly and brung it down over their head.

The crying of the young echoed across the preserve, grating, like a waterfall of rocks.

The tree swished through the air.

Balls of fire suddenly appeared beside Stiles as he leapt through the air and landed in front of Cora’s petrified body. He sent them soring upwards into the troll’s face, setting the tree on fire in the process. The troll screeched, dropping the flaming tree, which Stiles picked up and launches away from them, sending a cold stream of water out after it. The tattoos on his arms and neck darkened and twisted as he held the troll at bay with sheer force.

Someone leapt on the trolls back and sunk daggers into its throat just as the other trolls charged at them.

Launching himself into the air, Stiles yanked the swords from their brace and brung them down on the other troll’s neck, slicing it open and letting the lifeblood drain from it. The troll fell backwards with the force of Stiles strike and he landed crouched on its chest.

The young stopped crying for a fraction of a moment, dousing the preserve in that eerie silence.

“Cora,” someone gasped behind him and he turned to see a practically unconscious Derek dragging himself over to his sister, who was sitting, frozen and staring at Stiles.

The young started to wail.

∞

Four of the trolls were dead. The other ten adults were unconscious and bound with ropes Lydia had pulled from somewhere. The four young were hiding amongst the bound trolls.

Brett’s leg needed to be reset. As did Chris’ arm. Jackson’s shoulder was healed. Jordan’s arm wound needed stiches. Cora was in shock. Derek was unconscious.

∞

Stiles and Allison stayed behind with Boyd, Danny and Carrie to clear up the site. There was little they could do about all the fallen or uprooted trees but thankfully they weren’t close to any of the trails so no one would stumble across the site and wonder what had happened. The trolls however, were another issue.

“What are we supposed to do with them?” Allison frowned down at one of the twitching bodies, branch at the ready to knock it out again if it woke up.

“Well, we had some trolls come through a few years back and when they got too close to the town, we shipped them up to the mountains,” Boyd shrugged. “Of course, there was only like three of them, so they all fit in one van.”

“You put trolls in the back of a van?” Allison asked in disbelief.

“Lydia can make some kind of tonic that knocks them out cold for forty-eight hours,” Danny explained. “But yeah, basically. Had to come up with an excuse for the smell when we returned the van to the rental company though.”

“You put _trolls_ in the back of a _van_ ,” Allison repeated, shaking her head. “This is why we just kill them.”

“Trolls are harmless,” Boyd frowned.

“Tell that to Brett’s leg,” Carrie snorted. “But yeah, for the most part they don't really do much and so long as no one accidentally bumps into one, they don't cause any trouble. I’ve no idea what got into this lot though, sure Mason is a bit weird but he’s not _that_ scary.”

“I just want to know why there’s so many of them, from the looks of it they’ve been here a while too – explains why no one noticed them come in recently,” Danny sighed. “A shit load of Imps and now a shit ton of trolls… I don’t even want to know what’s next.”

“Imps and trolls are relatively friendly so its not like they were antagonizing each other,” Carrie pointed out. “So… something that scares them both?”

“Trolls aren’t really scared of much because they don't really venture that far from their homes,” said Stiles.

“Helpful,” Danny snorted, poking one of the unconscious trolls. “I think we may have lost another one – pretty sure this guy has stopped breathing.”

“One less troll to load into the back of a van,” Allison muttered under her breath.

∞

In the end they hired two vans, to Carmen and Hugo’s utter amusement, and loaded the trolls into them, managing to bribe the young along with a variety of things Stiles would rather not think about. Louisa and Boyd drove them up to the mountains a few hours outside of Beacon Hills and took several of their pack with them to help unload.

Once the vans were loaded, Stiles and the others took their leave of the McCall pack and headed back to their house, all quiet and exhausted. Hugo and Logan disappeared to their room without a word and Carmen followed upstairs to her own room. Jackson told Stiles he was just going to run for a bit, to burn off the excess adrenaline. Allison bid Stiles and Renn goodnight as well.

“I still can’t believe they just put the trolls in a _van_ ,” Renn breathed out into the night from where she had taken a seat on the steps of the porch.

“Scott always did want to save everyone,” Stiles sighed from the broken porch swing.

“Doesn't mean he can,” Renn noted, sipping on her tea.

The two sat in silence for almost an hour, listening for any sign of life in the deserted forest. Eventually Renn got up and heads inside, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple and running her fingers through his hair affectionately.

Then Stiles was alone, the cool evening breeze the only sound to be heard save for the beating of hearts in the house behind him.

It took only another thirty minutes before another heartbeat came into range. A heartbeat that should not have been familiar but somehow was, as if even before Stiles had gained the senses of a raven he had been able to _feel_ that particular beat.

“Your sister would kill us both if she knew you were here,” Stiles said in greeting, leaning forward on the broken swing.

“Yes, well, I just wanted to thank you for making sure she still could,” Derek snorted, coming to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps. Stiles didn't respond. “So thank you. For saving Cora’s life,” the older man elaborated, hand coming up to pick awkwardly at the splintering wood of the porch railing.

“You don't have to thank me,” Stiles finally replied.

“I know… But I wanted to. This place is a bit of a dump, isn’t it?”

“It’ll do.”

“You know it belongs to Erica right? When her aunt died she inherited it… Didn't know what to do with it but couldn't quite bring herself to sell it,” Derek rambled and Stiles wondered why he was still even there. He had said what he had come to say.

“She told me it was her aunts,” Stiles offered.

“I know you, uh, stayed in contact with her…” Derek frowned. “Or, rather, came back into contact with her. I don't know the details, she never told me. I just overheard her on the phone to you once talking about some new marvel film,” he trailed off, smiling slightly at the ground. “It was, um… It was good to hear your voice. To know you were still alive,” he shrugged a little helplessly.

Derek paused, staring intently at the rotting wood in front of him. Stiles didn't say a word.

“I’m sorry – for what I said to you the other night,” Derek eventually breathed out. “You’re not a coward. I know you were just doing what you thought was right, what you needed to do.”

“Yes, well if I say it often enough maybe it’ll help me sleep at night,” Stiles chuckled humourlessly.

“You don’t need my permission to be here,” Derek continued, ignoring him. “Beacon Hills is as much your home as it is mine.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles sighed.

“Well regardless, I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re back,” Derek mumbled out before he nodded in Stiles general direction and took off back into the woods. And Stiles could not for the life of him tell whether he was lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and check out the [blog](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/) for this story.


	14. The Theory

    

    

    

_[Logan Parker](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143032362428/logan-parker-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Theory**

“So we’ve had a wolf pack, an imp swarm and a troll clan all within the space of a week,” Lydia stated. “We don’t know how long the trolls were here and we don't know how long they would have stayed if Mason hadn’t startled them. We _do_ know that it is unheard of to have a clan that big and they were far more aggressive than any we’ve encountered so far. Likewise with the imps – a massive swarm, travelling too fast and carrying _wolfsbane_. The wolf pack were probably just assholes but even they were bigger than normal, although not entirely unheard of,” she rattled off.

“So what? Supernatural creatures are gathering in bigger groups? And we don't know why?” Brett frowned.

“Fear probably. Or protection from something,” Lydia shrugged. “The point is that if they’re in bigger groups, they should be easier to spot. But we have to remember that it wasn't the trolls the imps were running from, it was something else.”

“Brilliant,” Mason muttered under his breath.

“And they’re all being drawn towards the Nemeton?” Kira asked, swinging her legs from her perch on the chest of draws in Scott and Lydia’s living room where the entire McCall pack, with the exception of the children and Melissa, had gathered.

“Well that’s another theory – that rather than running from something, these creatures are just being drawn towards the Nemeton at a much faster rate. We don't really know how the Nemeton works, or how it draws creatures in,” she elaborated. “But shutting it down could- _would_ help.”

“Could it be that something is being drawn towards it that is scaring all the other supernatural creatures in its path and making them run?” Louisa interjected. “I mean – we don't really have any proof that the trolls or imps were actually headed for the Nemeton.”

“Well that would only work if whatever it was, was coming from all different directions – practically circling Beacon Hills – because the trolls had been there a while and the wolf pack wasn't exactly planning on moving anytime soon,” Carrie pointed out.

“Lovely,” snorted Mason.

“So we could potentially be surrounded by some kind of creature that terrifies all other supernatural creatures and is heading right for the Nemeton?” Cora cleared up, looking wholly unimpressed. “I should have stayed in Brazil.”

The entire pack fell silent; all quietly hoping someone would disagree with Cora’s synopsis.

“Should we tell Stiles?” Kira finally asked, instantly making the metaphorical hackles of several of her pack mates’ go up just at the mention of his name. “What? If they’re going to stick around, we should probably keep them clued up.”

“We have nothing to clue them in on,” Lydia replied.

“Uh… only that we’re potentially surrounded by some terrifying creatures we’ve probably never come across before,” Kira frowned. “You wait to tell him and they’ll just figure it out for themselves anyway.”

“I still don't get why they are even here,” came a disgruntled huff from Liam, who was slouched in one of the arms chairs with a put upon expression on his face.

“So we can shut down the Nemeton maybe?” Cora snorted, giving him a look that strongly suggested she thought he was an idiot. “And because we could probably do with all the extra fighters we could get? And I’d be dead if he wasn’t?”

“Alright, alright,” Liam muttered. “So just hurry up and shut down the Nemeton and then they can fuck off and we’ll stop having a shit ton of weird-ass creatures invading.”

Everyone went quiet again. Lydia looked to Scott who just shrugged.

“We don’t know how,” she finally confessed. “We know we need the people who gave it power but we don’t really know what to do beyond that.”

“Fantastic,” Mason rolled his eyes.

∞

“We’re surrounded,” stated Carmen, looking up from the map she had spread across the table in what must have been the dinning room. “I’ve no idea what by but we are.”

“What do you mean?” Allison frowned, setting her flint knapping kit down and coming to join Carmen at the table.

“Well look – the imps were heading East and from the tracks they think the trolls had come from the South. Now think about all the other incidences we’ve had over the passed few months – the harpies down in Yosemite were heading Northwest, so were the brownies from near Vegas. When we were in San Diego that fairy couple were heading North,” she rattles off, drawing lines from each of the places in the direction those they had encountered there were heading.

“Remember when we were back on the Colorado – New Mexico border, there was a heard of fucking centaurs (which are almost never seen) heading East?” added Hugo.

“So were the nymphs from Utah.”

“And when we met up with Logan’s friend from Vancouver, he said that a huge number of sprites were moving Southwards,” Hugo continued, for some morbid reason sounding a little excited as he lent over the map, tracing the line the sprites had taken with his index finger.

“And look where they’re all heading,” Carmen finished, standing back and placing her finger on the point where the lines converged.

“Beacon. Fucking. Hills,” whistled Hugo.

“Holy shit,” was Allison’s response.

“Remind me why we decided to stop off at this fucking summit for the supernatural?” the redhead snorted, the Irish lilt to her voice growing stronger with her unease. “Whatever is coming, its been coming for months, at _least_. And I’ll bet my ass its isn’t going to be pretty.”

“That’s not necessarily true – some of the most terrifying things we’ve come across so far have been pretty fucking beautiful,” Hugo snorted, rummaging through his bag to get out his log and see what other incidences they could add to the map.

“I sinisterly doubt it’s just going to be more nymphs, Hugo,” Carmen snorted.

“Terrifying. Beautiful,” Hugo reiterated.

“So you think there’s actually something surrounding Beacon Hills rather than just the force of the Nemeton drawing them here?” asked Allison.

“Well, I don’t know how the Nemeton works so possibly but they seem to be travelling in bigger groups and faster speeds than normal, not to mention they’ve all be oddly hostile,” Carmen pointed out.

“Ugh, I feel like we’re going in circles,” Allison sighed, fingertips running over the lines Carmen had drawn.

∞

“This is why I don’t let you come shopping with me,” Stiles growled as Renn dumped a heap of chocolate and crisps in the trolley. She just smirked in response, adding an extra bag of chocolate raisins. The supermarket was weirdly empty as they went up and down the aisle, Stiles swiftly ducking out of sight of anyone who might recognise him. Of course, Renn’s insistence that they _do_ need four different flavours of Doritos meant that he didn't quite spot Mrs Henderson soon enough.

“Stiles? Is that you?” the little old lady asked, steering her trolley directly at him. For a moment he considered pretending to be someone else.

“Hi Mrs Henderson,” he managed to grit out, forcing a smile onto his face.

“It is you! I thought so! I recognised you from all the way over by the tomatoes – my, haven’t you grown,” she eyed him up. “And golly, what have you done to your skin,” she remarked, eyes going wide as she took in his tattoos. “My, my, I’m sure Melissa had a heart attack when she saw those!” the McCall’s old neighbour exclaimed. “Did you get them in Europe? Melissa said you’d gone to stay with relatives there after the accident?” she queried and _this_ was why Stiles avoided people. “I don't think I ever got to say how sorry I was to hear about your father, he was such a good man, helped me out with a burglar once – chased him up the street!” she squawked. “And who is this young lady? A girlfriend? My, my, you always did pick the peculiar looking ones,” Mrs Henderson continued to ramble, staring disapprovingly at Renn’s short hair.

“Stiles!” another voice screeched before Mrs Henderson could open her mouth to do any more damage. Then there was a small body careering into his legs, long brown hair fluttering about him.

“Hello munchkin,” Stiles chuckled, crouching down to Florence’s height so he had an excuse not to look at Mrs Henderson. Or Renn.

“Stiles! Mum said you’d gone but I knew she was wrong because you promised me I could see your wings and I still haven’t seen them yet, you know,” she rattled off speedily, hands fisting on Stiles’ shoulders.

“And where is your mummy now?” he inquired.

“Uh oh…” she breathed out, eyes going wide.

“Florence Hale what have I told you about running off in the supermarket!” Cora yelled, striding down the aisle, face clouded in anger and concern.

“That I shouldn't do it?” Florence winced before embarking on her explanation in a hurried voice. “I’m sorry mummy but I heard Stiles and I had to find him before he left so I ran and I'm really sorry please don't put the Reeses back,” she begged, looking up pleadingly with those iridescent eyes.

“Miss Hale,” Mrs Henderson interrupted, voice suddenly much colder than it had been a moment ago.

“Mrs Henderson,” Cora replied, just as coldly.

“Well,” the old woman huffed. “I should get back to my shopping dear,” she informed Stiles with a pinched smile before turning her trolley around and muttering under her breath about _rude_ and _unappreciative_ people.

Stiles stood there awkwardly as Cora turned back to chastise Florence and Renn was still staring at him, a frown etched on her forehead. Eventually Cora stood up, looking somewhat torn as she looked at Stiles.

“Um, sorry about that,” she muttered, gesturing to her daughter.

“Not at all,” Stiles forced a smile, which turned a little realer as he looked down at the scowling girl.

“Right, well, we better be going,” she stated, grabbing Florence’s hand.

“Bye Stiles,” mumbled the little girl. Stiles crouched down in front of her.

“Bye, Flo,” he grinned. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I’ll show you my wings.”

“Really?” her face lit up.

“Really, really,” Stiles chuckled as she flung herself into his arms for a hug. Just as she pressed her nose against his cheek, Stiles forced himself to pull away. “Florence honey,” he smiled. “You shouldn't really do that,” he forced himself to tell her.

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Because it might upset people in your family,” he explained gently.

“But you are family,” she frowned, making Stiles freeze.

“ _Florence_ ,” Cora snapped, grabbing her hand again.

“What? He is! He _smells_ like it!” Florence protested.

“We’re leaving,” Cora stated, picking up her daughter hurriedly, not looking Stiles in the eye.

“He smells like family mum! I’m just trying to make it stronger!” she started crying as her mother rushed down the aisle away from the startled valravne, not even risking a glance behind her and shopping trolley abandoned.

“What the fuck?” Renn voiced Stiles thoughts. “Stiles? Stiles! Come on, snap out of it,” she ordered, tugging on his sleeve. “We still need to get bread,” she added on, trying to distract him from his shock and eventually resorting to dragging him down the aisle in the opposite direction to where Cora and Florence had disappeared.

∞

Allison was sitting on the porch, feathering the arrows she had made a few days ago and lost in thought when a crackling alerted her to the presence of someone else. Stiles and Renn were still shopping and Logan and Hugo had gone for a walk to familiarize themselves with the area and spend some time alone. Carmen and Jackson were several miles away testing out some new staffs and wouldn't be back for a while yet.

Reaching for the crossbow she had just cleaned, Allison cocked it and raises it in the general direction of the noise. “Who’s there?” she asked the lengthening shadows, eyes peeled.

“Whoa,” came a vaguely familiar voice. “Don’t shoot we come in peace,” they chuckled. Allison kept the bow raised. After a few moments, two figures emerged from the tree line. “It’s just us,” Isaac continued to chuckle. “Although good to see you’ve got your guard up.”

“Hey,” Kira smiled, skipping the last few steps over to the porch. “Are you on your own?”

“Carmen and Jackson are in hearing range if I scream,” Allison gave as an answer.

“Well hopefully that’s not necessary,” snorted the blond, taking a seat on the step beside her. “Kira insisted we come and tell you that the current theory is that we’re-”

“Surrounded?” Allison finished for him, eyebrow cocked.

“Told you they’d figure it out,” the other woman grinned.

“All the creatures we’ve come across in the last few months have been heading this way, we weren’t really paying attention before so we didn't notice,” she explained. “In all honestly, I don't feel the pull because I’m human but I suspect the valravne have probably been drawn here for a while, we’ve been getting closer for months too,” she added. “As for what is surrounding us – maybe their supernatural subconscious recognised a threat and moved away?” she shrugged.

“That the only reason you can think of they’d come back?” Isaac asked plainly.

Allison only shrugged again.

“So tell us… when did Stiles get so _badass_?” Isaac changed the subject, leaning back against the precarious rails as Kira sat down on the bottom step. “I mean – who the hell saw _that_ coming?”

“I’d watch your tongue around him now,” Allison smirked. “He could have you hanging from the tops of the trees without even looking your way.”

“Now that I would _love_ to see,” Kira laughed. “Can any of the other valravne do that sort of stuff?”

“No, that’s just because he’s a spark, the rest are all just valravne.”

“Still pretty cool,” Kira muttered.

“How come he’s the leader?” Isaac queried, clearly not bothering with trying to be subtle about his curiosity.

“That’s just how it works with valravne. They don't change positions like wolves can do, whatever status they are when they are born or changed – that’s the status they’ll be for the rest of their lives. Means there are a lot of groups without one designated leader but there’s also an innate hierarchy – I don’t really understand it all,” Allison huffed.

“Like a pack without an Alpha? Sounds weird,” Isaac snorted, picking up one of her arrows and running the feathered tip through his fingers. “How did you find him?”

“He found me,” Allison smiled softly. “I almost killed him, had a knife to his throat before I recognised who it was, pretty sure that’s the only reason they let me join them – because I managed to take down _Stiles_. I’m semi-convinced they thought he was completely invincible before that,” she smirked.

“Whose them?”

“Everyone but Renn and Logan,” Allison replied, face closing off and heartbeat not entirely regular. Not _lying_. But also not the whole truth. “So Scott and Lydia are married… how did that happen? Last I heard, he was _your_ boyfriend,” she changed the subject, poking Kira’s shoulder teasingly.

“Ha. That’s a long story,” Kira snorts. “Well the first bit – me and Scott? I think we were over long before either of us admitted it out loud,” she shrugged, fiddling with the end of Isaac’s scarf.

“And since? Had your eye on anyone else?” Allison pried with a smile. Kira had only moved to Beacon Hills a few months before Allison had left, she had barely known her really, what with her getting together with Scott putting somewhat of a boundary up between them. But from what she remembered, Kira was the purest thing to set foot in this godforsaken town.

“Nah, not really… Well I dated Liam for a couple of months before-” she cut herself off, face suddenly shuttering much like Allison’s had done only moments ago.

“Before?” Allison couldn't help but ask.

“Before an old friend of Liam’s came back to town,” Isaac explained for her, expression gloomy.

“What happened?”

“Well, she isn’t here anymore,” Isaac replied pointedly and Allison finally managed to curb her curiosity. “So are Stiles and Jackson actually fucking because Cora said they were but I’m not sure I fully trust her and quite frankly I just can’t quite _picture_ it,” Isaac rambled, topic changed and the heaviness that had settled on them all briefly shoved aside.

“Why would you want to picture it?” Allison chuckled. “And it’s none of your business!”

“Jackson doesn't seem half as bad as you made him out to be,” Kira accused, glaring at Isaac.

“Oh he really was awful,” Allison laughed. “When Stiles found me, Jackson was already with him and I swear, I almost punched him outright!”

“He doesn't seem like a dick to me,” she huffed, crossing her arms, grateful for the subject change.

“That’s because he’s not trying to uphold his reputation anymore,” Allison shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, the guy’s an innate asshole but at least now he isn’t a complete manipulative bastard.”

“I seem to recall the two of you were rather close actually,” Isaac narrowed his eyes on her. “He was never a dick to you – took you to prom and everything.”

“How do you even remember that shit?” Allison laughed and it was weird really, how easy it was to talk to Isaac and Kira. How it didn't hurt as much as she would have expected, thinking about her past here in Beacon Hills. The three of them chatted for a while longer, the shadows growing together and blanketing the forest in darkness.

Eventually Carmen and Jackson came back, covered in mud and leaves, cheeks still red from exertion. They both only managed to nod in greeting to the two visitors before fighting over who got first go in the miraculously still functioning – albeit freezing cold – shower.

Hugo and Logan snuck in through the back door and headed straight to their room so as not to have to make any conversation.

“We should probably get going,” Kira eventually sighed, pushing herself off of Isaac’s leg where she had been leaning. “But just so you know – if you ever want a warm shower, you are more than welcome to drop by.”

“To the Hale House?” Allison frowned, not convinced she would be all that welcome there.

“The what? Oh the Pack House?” Kira corrected. “Nah, I meant our place – me and Isaac are roomies,” she chuckled. “We live right on the edge of town, on the road that heads out to the preserve.”

“Oh, okay, thanks,” Allison smiled. “And you guys are more than welcome to stop by this dump if you feel a burning desire to,” she added blandly making Kira giggle.

“Come on,” Kira finally forced herself up all the way, tugging on Isaac’s hoodie to get him to stand up as well. “See you soon,” she grinned and the other woman just nodded, a rare smile on her face. Maybe being back in Beacon Hills wasn't the _worst_ thing that could happen after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/)


	15. The Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where have I been? I honestly don't know. All I know is that I'm sorry.

    

    

    

_[Peter Hale](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/156476794653/peter-hale-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Grave**

Early dawn light was barely breaking through the blanket of fog that lingered amongst the gravestones. Beacon Hills cemetery was just like any other small town cemetery – rows and rows of unforgiving stone, engraved with long forgotten names; the occasional disturbed patch of earth where a new body had been committed into the ground; the rotting remains of flowers left by those who cared enough to leave them but not enough to come back. Moss lay heavy on the ground, taking root on the carefully marked out grave beds, a reminder that the earth did not recognize the will of man.

Tucked away in the furthest corner of the graveyard, a raven perched upon one of the stones – newer than those either side, as if space had been left especially for them. Yet it was still old enough that the moss had crept over it, interwoven with small buds of purple and glistening with the morning dew. Against the headstone rested a single white tulip. Forgiveness. New life. Eternal rest.

The raven leapt into the air, twisting as black tendrils of smoke consumed it before a man settled gently onto the dew-damp earth in its place. Bare toes sunk into the moss as Stiles crouched down before the grave, fingers ever so hesitantly reaching out to brush against the name carved into the stone.

Ten years ago, if someone had told him he would be kneeling before this man’s grave feeling remorse for the pain he must have caused him – Stiles would have laughed in their face. Yet there he was, face blank and heartbeat controlled but not able to choke down the bitter taste of guilt. He would not take it back – _could not_ take it back – but still a part of his wished he had not hurt everyone along the way. Not that the thought had even crossed his mind back then.

Shifting to sit on the damp grass, Stiles hugged his knees to his chest, eyes never leaving the headstone. Letting his senses take over, he could smell the traces of those who had been here. He could smell Isaac, hesitant and never coming too close; he could smell Allison’s father, standing in one place for hours at a time; he could smell Cora, vague and fleeting as if she was wondering whether she should even be there; he could smell Lydia, perhaps strongest of all, her scent clinging to the petals of the tulip and soaked into the ground to the left of the grave; and he could smell Derek, where his hand would lightly brush against the headstone before moving to the graves a little further down.

By the time he heard the footsteps he didn't know he had been waiting for, the sun was almost at its peak. The fog has abated, leaving only a chill clinging to his skin. He didn't remember October ever being this cold. The footsteps came to a halt a few paces away. Stiles’ hand absentmindedly scratched at the crook of his neck.

“How did he die?” he asked, as if that were the most important question.

“He was ripped apart by a rabid werewolf, ironically,” Derek responded, huffing out a humourless snort. “The wolf was aiming for Lydia. When he jumped in front of her, it gave us the distraction we needed to come at it from behind. But it was too late.”

“He saved her life?” Stiles queried, trying to slot that tidbit away with the rest of the information on the man he had once been arrogant enough to assume he had known. Derek merely huffed out a vague noise of affirmation.

“He always had a soft spot for her, I think she reminded him of his wife.” The two men turned simultaneously to the gravestone to the right, upon which two names were engraved. “Camille was his life. She was all soft edges but with a fire in her belly, willing to take on anyone who threatened her family. Stubborn to a fault – so a lot like Lydia,” he continued, the smallest trace of amusement leaking into his voice with those last few words. “Their daughter, Annie, was much the same. A human born to two wolves – a rarity. My mother was convinced she was a spark,” he confessed, voice far more at ease talking about his family than Stiles could ever recall it being in the past.

Once more, Stiles reached out and traced the figures embedded in the stone.

**_Peter Derek Hale  
1970-2015_ **

“Are you named after him?” Stiles suddenly asked, fingers hovering over the middle name.

“No, we’re both named after my maternal grandfather,” Derek explained, toeing at the ground and looking like he wanted to say more but ultimately deciding against it. They lapsed into silence once more, the tension that usually hung heavy in the air between them absent as they both lost themselves to memories of the man beneath the headstone.

Neither had had particularly peaceful relationships with Peter, always at odds about something. He was simply too complicated a person to be understood and Stiles often wondered whether he even understood himself most of the time. From what he had heard, snippets of life before the fire, Peter had been a completely different man to the one he had met in the hospital all those years ago. And even in the short time Stiles had known him, he had come face to face with many different facets of Peter’s character. He had met the damaged and power hungry Peter that had killed his own niece. He had met the sarcastic and aloof Peter that Lydia had brought back from the dead. He had met the Peter who had learned that he had family he could not even remember. And he had met the Peter that had come after that, the Peter that Stiles had left behind.

“He never told us,” Derek suddenly interrupted as if he had been following Stiles’ thoughts. “What happened that night – he never spoke about it.”

“I know,” Stiles sighed, resisting the urge to chuckle humourlessly. Helplessly. “If he had, I would not be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you knew what I had done – what he helped me do – I would never have been welcomed back,” Stiles promised, looking up to meet Derek’s eye so that he might know the truth behind Stiles’ words.

“We were hardly welcoming,” Derek snorted.

“Yet here I am.”

∞

The afternoon was fading into evening when Cora heard a somewhat familiar heartbeat making its way up the drive to the Pack House. Her initial response was to bristle up, as if ready to fight, an instinct that had only gotten stronger since Florence was born. However, the mere fact that she was able to sense Carmen coming was enough for her to know she was not about to be attacked and she relaxes slightly, although refused to lower her guard completely.

Wandering out to the front porch, she leant against the railings and watched as the redhead ambled casually down the driveway. There was no denying that Carmen was beautiful – a blind man could tell you that much. Her red hair was longer and wilder than Lydia’s, an uncontrollable energy that somehow lured Cora in. Brilliant blue eyes flashed dangerously in the dappled sunlight as she waved erratically to the werewolf. The dusting of freckles across her nose and the warmth of her Irish lilt made her seem both more human and more mysterious all at once.

“Can I help you?” Cora asked, raising an eyebrow when Carmen was only a few meters from the house. With a smirk, the redhead launched herself up the stairs with inhuman swiftness and came to a halt barely inches from where Cora was leaning.

“Hale,” she greeted, far too close for comfort. Cora’s eyes could not help but dart down to watch those plump lips frame her name. Carmen’s smirk widened.

“What do you want?” she went for nonchalant and almost hit it, stepping back to regain herself and heading back inside the house.

“I was bored,” Carmen shrugged, running her fingers along the table in the hallway that the pack tended the throw their keys and whatnot on, blatantly leaving her scent behind. Cora bit back a reprimand at the somewhat rude gesture.

“And you came here because…?”

“Jackson is being irritable, Hugo and Logan are too busy fucking, Allison is mingling with the angelic wolf and the Kitsune, Stiles has decided that hanging out in a graveyard is a fun way to spend the day and Renn is watching over him,” Carmen rattled off, bending slightly to get a better look at some of the photographs of the pack that hang in the hall.

Cora watched as Carmen ran her intelligent eyes over the people in the photographs, noting the ones she recognises, the ones that only appear a few times, and the ones that appeared more often but then disappeared. It took a moment for her words to sink in.

“Stiles is in the graveyard?”

“Yeah, he got up before dawn – I don't think he really slept to be honest. He’s been there ever since. Derek’s with him,” she added absently, like Cora would hardly be interested in that bit of information.

“ _What_?” Cora hissed, eyes glowing blue.

“Relax, they’re just talking – if that,” Carmen shrugged. “Just about the dead guy really but Renn says they’re mostly just sitting there in silence.”

“What dead guy?”

“It’s a graveyard – there’s lots of dead guys,” Carmen rolled her eyes. “Renn’s not sure about his name but the guy who got attacked by a rabid were, saved Lydia or something.”

“Peter?” Cora frowned. There were several graves that she had expected Stiles to visit in the cemetery but _Peter’s_ had not been very high on that list.

“Do you know him?” she asked, breezing past her and into the living room, heading straight for Cora’s favourite chair.

“He was my uncle,” Cora responded absently before snapping her attention back to the guest. “Do you always make a habit of spying on your Alpha?” she asked.

“Only when he gets in one of his moods, he knows we’re there so if he wanted to he could make us leave. Renn can get a little paranoid though,” she muttered, burrowing herself into the plush chair and leaving her scent all over it. Cora frowned. “Now I didn't come here to talk about my Alpha, I was actually hoping you could tell me a little more about this Nemeton thing.”

“What’s there to tell?” Cora asked, begrudgingly taking a seat on the sofa as her usual spot was currently occupied. “No one really knows what it is, how it works, or how to shut it down.”

“Yeah but Renn said it was activated by a virgin sacrifice and then given full power by Stiles, Scott and Allison _dying_ – how does that even work?”

“Like I said – no one knows.”

“What if they have to die again?” Carmen asked, her previously wandering gaze suddenly focused with all its intensity on Cora and the wolf had to refrain from flinching away from it. It was the question at the back of everyone’s minds: was the key to awakening it also the key to shutting it? “I won’t sacrifice my Alpha for some magnetic tree stump,” she stated, voice suddenly icy cold and Cora cannot help but wonder what it was about Stiles that evoked such unswerving loyalty.

“Neither will I,” Cora found herself promising. “They won’t let it come to that.”

∞

The day had turned out to be a fairly pleasant one, not the scorching heat of Californian summers but the fog had disappeared and the clouds had parted to let the sun filter through the autumnal leaves onto the graveyard below. Stiles gazed up at the sky, watching the colours change as the sun lowered towards the horizon. Time was a strange thing, in some ways he felt as if the day had raced by and in others he felt like he had been lying there a lifetime.

“It’s strange,” Derek interrupted his musings from where he is slouched against an old oak.

“What is?” asked Stiles, not bothering to lift his head. The day had passed in much the same fashion, the two of them sitting in silence save for the occasional comment, neither really knowing what they were doing there but neither really wanting to leave. It was like an ache, one Stiles didn't even notice until it was gone, and only Derek’s presence gave him that relief.

“That you’re not human,” Derek elaborated. “I keep wanting to give you my jacket or something so that you don't catch a cold.”

“Who’d have thought? Fragile little Stiles – no longer susceptible to the menace that is the common cold. Hell must have frozen over,” he chuckled. “Sometimes I forget, you know,” he added. “I find myself searching for a Band-Aid when I cut myself only to realise the wound has already healed by the time I find one; or like, reaching for my Adderall bottle when I need to concentrate even though I can’t even remember the last time I actually _had_ any.”

“Do you remember the time you got really mad about something and threw a bottle of Adderall at Boyd’s head?” Derek snorted and the memory made Stiles groan painfully. “Everyone was so surprised by what you’d done-”

“Including me!”

“-that they just sort of sat there and didn't breath for a good minute. When you realised what you did you just _accepted_ your fate but Boyd just stared at you until you started to grovel – I think in the end you promised him season tickets to a team of his choice before he finally broke,” Derek laughed and Stiles chest clamped tight at the sound. Oh _god_ he had missed that sound. “I think that was the one time I saw you throw something and actually hit what you were aiming at as well,” he continued to laugh and Stiles forgot what breathing was. “He wouldn't let you forget it for _months_.”

“I deserved every punishment he laid on me,” Stiles finally managed to choke out, voice a little soft and heart a little frayed. “Nobody hurts Boyd like that,” he muttered defiantly.

“You didn't even _hurt_ him,” Derek snorted. “He probably wouldn't even have noticed if everyone hadn’t gone deathly quiet. God, you were so cute,” he tacked on absentmindedly and Stiles wasn't even sure if he knew he said it out loud but he was sure of the way his entire chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself as he lay in the shadow of the oak tree and forced his heart to maintain a steady rhythm.


	16. The Unkindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so dramatic, I'm sorry.
> 
> Also please forgive me for the ridiculously long wait, I had massive writers block and got distracted by other projects. Not to mention real life being an utter bitch.
> 
> Also I've gone through previous chapters to edit them and sort out some of the tense problems I was having, so hopefully that all sorted now and I really hope those of you who've subscribed didn't just get like sixteen emails about it, if you did I am so sorry!

   

   

   

_[Isaac Lahey](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/post/166300042821/the-unkindness-of-valravn-isaac-lahey-in-the) _

** The Unkindness **

Stiles darted between the tree branches, reveling in the rush of wind beneath his wings. His focus was pinpointed in the direction Renn had flown as he pushed himself to catch up with her. _Too slow_ she taunted him. Sometimes he envied her. When she had turned she had taken to the air like she was born to fly – it had taken him months of awkward fumbling and hushed murmurs of encouragement before he was able to get the hang of it. And Hugo had been worse. But Renn was in another league; even Carmen could not out fly her.

 _You might be a good flier but you are terrible at concealing yourself,_ Stiles told her. He could hear her wings beating in time with her heart from miles away. Her scent was still lingering on the breeze. _Who needs to conceal themselves when they can outfly everything?_ She laughed.

He spread his senses wider, wondering whether Logan and Allison had returned from Ikea yet. He caught their heartbeats driving down the highway many miles off. Hugo had joined them it seemed, which did not bode well for their credit card. In the other direction Carmen and Jackson had dragged some of Scott’s pack onto the old lacrosse field.

 _There’s someone at the house_ Renn suddenly stated. Stiles instantly refocused on the empty shell of Erica’s aunt’s house. Three heartbeats. Two that were becoming familiar. One that seemed to align with his own. _It’s the Hales_ he told her. _You go back_ Renn sighed; begrudgingly accepting their chase might be over, _I’ll go and show Jackson how to actually use a lacrosse stick_. And then she was off, flying in another direction.

Stiles dropped a little in the air, meandering between the tree trunks as he slowly made his way back to the house. As he neared them he thought about peeling back his defences so that they could hear him coming. But then curiosity got the better of him and he didn't.

Through the trees he saw Derek’s head shoot up, gaze instantly fixed on him. Fascinating.

Breaking through into the clearing he braced himself before twisting and letting the raven fade to human form again, landing in a crouch at the bottom of the porch steps on which the three of them were sitting.

“That. Was. _Wicked_ ,” Florence breathed out in awe before jumping down the steps and throwing her arms around Stiles neck. “That’s so much cooler than when mum or Derek turn into a wolf, they just look creepy and like all their bones are breaking – you looked _insane_! All that like smoky stuff and you just _appeared_ like out of thin air but you were there you were just really small and then you were you again and that was so cool!” she rambled, reaching out as if to run her fingers on his neck before frowning and retracting her hand.

“Great, now look what you’ve done,” Cora grumbled, running a hand through Florence’s hair gently, as if to comfort her. “She’s never going to shut up about you.”

“Uh, sorry?” Stiles chuckled, standing up from his crouched position. “Can I, um, help you guys?”

“Oh right, yeah, it was just that, um…” Cora mumbled.

“I want to see your wings,” Florence interrupted bluntly.

“Yeah… that,” Cora sighed. “Please can you just show her your wings, she’s honestly obsessed and won’t shut up about them and I really don’t think I can deal with it anymore.”

“You came all the way out here so I could show Florence my wings?” Stiles clarified with a raised eyebrow.

“Also Cora was hoping Carmen would be here,” Derek added on, speaking for the first time. Cora elbowed him sharply in the ribs and Stiles could not help but think he really should have seen that one coming. It was strange, the impasse Stiles and Derek had found themselves at, after the day spent at the graveyard, things were cordial – no where near normal, but what even was normal now a days?

“She’s on the lacrosse pitch with Jackson and some of your lot,” Stiles smirked, turning his attention back to Cora. “She should be back soon though I should think.”

“So… your wings?” Florence repeated, grinning up at Stiles as she tugged on his sleeve.

“My wings? Are you sure you wouldn't rather see my beak?” he asked, his tattoos darkening and beginning to swirl as his face slowly morphed, his nose and mouth being replaced by the beak of a raven. Florence’s eyes went wide in wonder as she reached out a hand to the smooth surface. Stiles squawked at her just before she touched him, making her jump back before bursting into giggles and shoving him playfully. Carefully he nudged her hand with his beak, letting her touch it.

“That’s so fucking weird,” Cora muttered under her breath.

“Mummy said a bad word!” her daughter instantly screeched, waving an accusing finger at her whilst the other one gently stroked Stiles’ beak. The tattoos begun swirling a little faster as his face faded back to human but he brought one of his hands out and Florence’s attention snapped to where his fingers were black and almost scaly, nails growing and twisting into talons. “ _Cool_ ,” she breathed.

“Watch out, they’re pretty sharp,” Stiles warned as Florence ran her fingers over his. “They look kinda gross but pretty useful for pricking pesky little girls,” he teased. Florence stuck her tongue out at him.

“That’s disgusting,” Cora muttered. “Why would you show me tha-”

She was cut off by a dreadful screech that echoes through the deserted woods, ringing in Stiles’ ears and making all three Hales flinch backwards.

“What the fuck was that?” Cora hissed, eyes burning blue and face beginning to morph. Before anyone could utter a response, a huge winged beast came soaring into the clearing in front of the house, heading straight for the three of them.

Stiles’ tattoos were dancing across his skin as he whipped around to face the creature. With a piercing squawk, two huge wings appeared, tearing through the fabric of his shirt and reeking of power as they beat stiltedly in the air. They stretched for meters on either side, barricading the three Hales behind them. Florence let out a breathless ‘ _whoa’_.

The beast barely paused, blinking once from eerily human eyes before continuing its charge – half flying and half running, as if it could not make up its mind. Its wings were leathery and taunt, almost bat-like. Stiles sent a blast of air in its direction, hoping to steer it off course.

The creature screeched once more, the sound grating like bones on rock. Its tail curled upwards, horrifyingly reminiscent of a scorpion, and Stiles barely managed to send a gust of air on time to block the needle thin spines it shot from its tip. Lunging at them again, the creature opened its mouth in a terrible screech, revealing three rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

And then Stiles was launching himself at the beast, talons outstretched as he aimed for the creature’s throat. It was twitching and shivering, as if trying to free itself from some invisible bonds, managing to duck under Stiles and knock into the Hales. Cora went flying, landing with a sickening crack against a tree. Derek was crouched over Florence, shielding her with his body as the beast clawed at his back.

Stiles saw red. And then flames. A terrible screech. And then the creature was lying in a smoldering heap in the middle of the clearing.

Just then Carmen and Renn materialized in front of the house, expressions stony. Relief flickered momentarily across their eyes as they took in the sight of the body on the floor before they turned their attention to the rest of the scene. Cora was lying unmoving on the other side of the cleaning, Derek still crouched and bleeding over his niece. Stiles’ wings still stretched ominously around him, casting a shadow over them all.

“Cor-” Derek choked out, scrambling across the ground towards his sister, blood dripping from the gashes on his back. Carmen instantly took his place beside Florence, checking her over for any injuries with gentle but urgent hands. “Alive,” he gasped, rearranging her unconscious body. “Just.”

“Take her to Scott,” Stiles ordered, tossing Renn the keys to the Jeep. “Being near her alpha will help her heal faster. Carmen go with her.”

The red head kicked into action first, scoping Florence up in her arms and depositing her in the passenger seat of the Jeep before helping Renn pick up Cora’s body and haul her into back, gentle fingers fluttering around her head as she laid her down.

“It’s going to be okay, little one,” Carmen said, pulling Florence on to her lap as Renn started the car. “You’re mama is going to be just fine, I promise.” And Stiles could tell she was trying to reassure herself as much as the child in her arms.

And then they were gone, leaving Stiles with a bleeding and semi-unconscious Derek.

The claws had gone deep, revealing slithers of white that made Stiles’ stomach churn. And then it started to rain. The sky opening up and drenching them in an instant. Stiles spared a thought for his Jeep before hurrying over to Derek and picking him effortlessly, carrying him inside out of the downpour. Derek’s head lulled alarming against Stiles’ shoulder as he kicked open the door.

“Come on big guy, you’ve had worse,” he muttered, needing to fill the silence for the first time in years. “It’s just a scratch, you’re going to be fine. Looks like the universe still doesn't fancy giving you a break, huh?” Laying Derek down on the remnants of the couch, hoping he wouldn't fall straight through, Stiles set about assessing the damage.

His magic wasn't really healing magic and Derek could heal himself. Both of these facts Stiles was very aware of. However somehow he found himself recalling the tricks someone had taught him about knitting together someone’s flesh and he watched as soft yellow smoke curled around the gashes and begun sewing them together. So intently was he focused on his work, that he didn't notice Derek regain full consciousness, didn't notice him watching him over his shoulder, didn't see the expression on his face.

“Stiles,” Derek murmured once his wounds had faded from existence, leaving only a dull throbbing behind them. The valravne jerked his head up, lips parted.

“Oh thank fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, Derek.”

“I’m okay,” Derek sighed. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Stiles muttered, eyes scanning Derek’s face for a lie even though he could hear the steadiness of his heartbeat.

“Stiles-”

And then they were scrambling at each other’s clothes, desperate. Hands running over skin, needing reassurance that it was still whole, still healed. Derek slid off the couch into Stiles’ lap, clinging to him, breathing him in. And then Stiles was gone, disappearing up the stairs. But before Derek’s world could realign he reappeared, bottle of lube in his hand as he fell to the floor again, stripping himself of his trousers and underwear in the process, leaving him in just his shirt.

“Derek…” Stiles murmured, hands grazing against his fly.

“Please-” was the choked out response and then Stiles was stripping him of his shirt and jeans, breath catching when he discovered Derek wasn't wearing underwear. Warm, wet fingers were then filling him, stretching him open, caressing him and Derek forgot why he shouldn't be doing this. All his senses were overpowered by _Stiles_. And nothing else mattered. Then fingers were replaced by his cock and Derek’s mind went blissfully white.

They rocked against each other, Derek cradled on his lap, faced buried in his neck, wet breaths caressing his skin. Stiles’ fingertips ran across the expanse of Derek’s back, thumb brushing against his tattoo. There was something spectacular about the way Derek fell apart in Stiles’ arms. Something completely devastating in the way he surrendered himself. It left Stiles breathless.

Derek cupped Stiles neck, thumb against his jaw, turning his face up. And Stiles knew he was about to kiss him. And he knew he couldn't let that happen. So he turned his face away and pretended he didn't see the way Derek’s face broke. Instead he focused on making Derek forget. Forget it all.

Any remnants of tenderness fell away as Stiles rocked up into Derek over and over, hitting that spot on almost every thrust. Derek’s breaths came short and ragged, hands curling into Stiles hair as he tilted his head backwards, if only to avoid looking at Stiles’ face. His eyelids fluttered shut as he let himself go, let himself ignore the shattered shards of his heart tearing up the inside of his chest, trapped beneath his ribs.

The sobs being wrenched from him were of ecstasy and nothing more.

When at last Derek came, he did so clinging to the back of Stiles’ ripped shirt, face tilted to the ceiling. Stiles followed not long after, face buried in Derek’s neck, lips caressing the skin in apology.

∞

Cora regained consciousness as dusk crept in. Carmen had not left her side even when they had brought her back to the loft. And that terrified her. Florence was curled around her mother’s side, fast asleep. Derek had appeared a few hours after they had left him, smelling overpoweringly over soap – but still not enough to mask the scent of her Alpha. He had helped carry Cora up the stairs, graciously allowing Carmen to stay despite obviously wanting to be alone.

Blinking heavily, Cora let out an unimpressed groan.

“Yeah, you’re probably going to have quite the headache,” Carmen chuckled.

“What happened?”

“You got thrown against a tree by a manticore, hit your head pretty hard – you’ve been out for most of the day,” Carmen explained, resisting the urge to run her fingers through Cora’s hair.

“And how come I have to wake up to your ugly face?” she queried but her heartbeat stuttered. Carmen was gracious enough no to point it out. If only just. “Where’s Derek?”

“Right here,” he replied, standing up from where he had been staring blankly at a book for the past hour. Seriously, he had not even bothered pretending to turn the pages. The two shared some kind of non-verbal conversation that Carmen politely ignored. Cora ended up just looking pissed.

“I should probably go,” Carmen decided, standing up and checking her pockets for her phone.

“Derek can give you a lift,” Cora grumbled.

“No need,” he shrugged.

“Don't be a fucking dick,” Cora snapped, wincing as she sat up.

“Uh, he means there’s already someone here to pick me up,” Carmen explained awkwardly.

“If that fucker thinks he can come in here I swear-” Cora was cut off by a knock on the door. Derek rolled his eyes and went to open it, ignoring his sister’s glare.

“Renn,” he greeted. “Stiles,” he added on, glancing over the blonde’s shoulder to where her alpha was standing, evidently a little uncomfortable about being dragged up there.

“Did you kiss her?” was the first thing out of Renn’s mouth.

“Excuse me?” Cora snorted.

“That’s what they do in the movies – true love’s kiss and all, I thought it might work on you, bit creepy what with the lack of consent and all but probably worth a shot. Although to be fair if I were you and I woke up to Carmen’s ugly mug kissing me I would probably wish I was still unconscious if only to forget the entire ordeal.”

“Renn, shut up,” Stiles chuckled, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Cora and Carmen were both supporting matching blushes however, so Renn deemed herself successful. “We should get going, we don't want to impose.”

“What? We just got here,” Renn pouted.

“It’s fine, you can stay if you want,” Derek shrugged, slumping back down into his armchair.

“See, I like Derek, he understands – I’m just trying to nurture the budding romance Stiles,” Renn smirked, gesturing unnecessarily towards Cora and Carmen.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, we’re going,” Carmen snapped, grabbing Renn by the back of her neck and marching her from the loft, muttering threateningly under her breath and leaving Stiles standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Right, well…” he backed out into the corridor before pausing and turning back to face Derek. “You don’t really want us around, you know,” he found himself saying. Cora snorted.

“And why is that?” asked Derek, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Because,” Stiles sighed. “We’re an unkindness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a drama queen.
> 
> [FIC TUMBLR](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [MY TUMBLR](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/)


	17. The Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a filler chapter but gives insight into some of the other characters. Next chapter is very heavily Stiles focused and some big questions should be answered.

   

   

   

_[Kira Yukimura](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/143060426148/kira-yukimura-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Loss**

****

“I can’t believe you actually said that,” Renn snorted from the passenger seat, choking back a laugh. “ _An Unkindness_ ,” she imitated him before collapsing back into a giggling fit. Behind him, Carmen was doing a better job at pretending not to laugh at him. If only barely. “Were you intentionally trying to sound like some cryptic villain from a fifties film or was that just an amazing accident?”

“Fuck off,” he growled, turning up the road towards the decrepit house. Renn had been laughing at him ever since he closed the door of the loft behind him. Derek and Cora had definitely heard her.

“I’m sorry, it’s just- oh my god,” she laughed again, tears threatening to spill as she clutched at her stomach. Carmen bit her lip and refused to meet his eye in the rearview mirror.

“I hate both of you,” he growled, switching off the engine and jumping from the Jeep. Hugo greeted him at the doorway, raising an eyebrow at Renn, who was still laughing too hard to get out the car. “Don't even ask.”

Inside, Logan and Allison were putting together some of the chairs they had bought at Ikea whilst Jackson watched, glaring at the furniture like it had personally offended him. Stiles suspected he had tried and failed to assemble them himself. Everyone was strangely quiet.

“What’s going on?” Stiles hedged.

“Oh, nothing, we’re just keeping out of each other’s hair, minding our own business… wouldn't want to upset anyway,” Allison replied far too innocently. Stiles frowned.

“After all, we are an unkindness,” Logon added before they all burst into giggles. Stiles spun on his heel and glared at Carmen, wondering when she had the time to snitch on him before he spotted her patting her phone in the pocket of her jeans. Sometimes he hated the lot of them.

∞

Three days later found them back at the Pack House – and Stiles still found it strange that it was no longer the Hale House. Renn had marched ahead of them, bursting through and yelling: “everyone stand aside, an unkindness is coming through!” Which had resulted in some confused looks from the other pack members and a ripple of snickers from his own.

“What is that girl on?” Brett snorted.

“She’s trying to be witty,” Lydia rolled her eyes as they all crowded into the dinning room. “It’s what they’re called – like we’re a Pack, a group of ravens, or in this case valravne is called and Unkindness.” Behind her Cora snorted and Derek raised a judging eyebrow in Stiles’ direction, which he pointedly ignored.

Something had shifted between them. After the manticore. Derek wasn't so wary about him, didn't avoid his gaze, challenged him. It was like he had overcome the shock of having Stiles back in his life and was trying to find a way to deal with it. It was like something had shifted, when Stiles had refused to kiss him. It was like he finally understood something. Something he had been missing.

Stiles was not sure which version of Derek he preferred.

The discussion dissolved into an argument about where the manticore that had attacked Stiles and the Hales had come from and whether it had been targeting them specifically or if it had simply been driven mad and targeted the first people it came across. Stiles tuned it out for the most part, snorting vaguely when Carmen and Lydia really got into it.

In the end, nothing was agreed, not that it really mattered. The manticore’s body had been disposed of and Cora had made a very strong point that it had been absolutely necessary to kill the thing, eyes fixed on Scott as she spoke. Scott looked only vaguely sheepish. There was a little more chatter about what could possibly be heading there way but no one had made much progress so it evolved into general conversation as people drifted off in smaller groups.

There were drinks and snacks in the kitchen and someone had started a campfire outside. Stiles was not sure if he was supposed to round up his misfits and leave but they had all merged with the other pack and Stiles did not want to make a scene. Scott was not glaring at him anyway, so he figured they couldn't be _that_ unwelcome.

“Stiles,” someone said behind him and he turned to see Derek holding out a drink to him.

“Uh, thanks?” he frowned, taking it and discovering to his surprise that it was elderflower. His favourite.

“Florence hasn't stopped talking about your wings,” Derek began, like having a conversation with Stiles was the most normal thing in the world. “The fact that she was in a near-death situations seem to have gone over her head, all she can talk about it you,” he chuckled, the sound hitting Stiles in the chest like a fucking sledgehammer.

“Uh… I guess that’s a good thing?”

“Yeah, I guess. She’s been trying to get Carmen to show hers but she seems a little reluctant.”

“I hope Carmen isn’t intruding,” Stiles frowned, glancing at the redhead, who was currently debating something with Boyd, Cora not far away. She had been spending a lot of time at the loft the last couple of days, not that she had spoken to Stiles about it, he could tell by her scent.

“Not at all, honestly I haven’t seen Cora like this since, well… for a while,” Derek shrugged, watching as his sister shot a smile at the redhead over her shoulder. “And Florence seems to like her.”

“Well that does seem to be an honour around here,” Stiles laughed.

“You haven’t asked.”

“Sorry?”

“You haven’t asked. About Florence’s dad.”

“Oh… uh, I figured it was none of my business,” Stiles said, staring intently into his glass.

“Yeah, I suppose not,” Derek frowned and Stiles could almost see the rest of the sentence forming in Derek’s mind: _that wouldn't have stopped you before._ But he doesn't say it. And for that Stiles is grateful.

“So, um, what do you do now?” Stiles asked, changing the topic awkwardly.

“I teach – at the high school.”

“What.”

“Yeah, I finished up my degree and took a teaching course. When Ken retired I applied and they gave me the job,” he explained, oblivious to Stiles’ utter astonishment. When he had left, Derek had spent his days doing… well no one really knew. Something broody probably. And now he was telling Stiles he was a history teacher at his old high school?

“Wow… okay, that wasn't what I was expecting,” he confessed.

“What did you expect?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Well if you think that’s weird, Cora owns a flower shop,” Derek snorted and across the room, Carmen’s head shot up to stare at them and Cora shot her brother a glare.

“You're kidding.”

“Nope,” Derek smirked, flashing a grin towards his sister.

“That is the best thing I have ever heard. What’s it called?”

“Uh… Hale’s Haven,” Derek replied but his expression at subdued and he suddenly could not meet Stiles’ eye. For a split second, Stiles caught the grief on Cora’s face before she quickly shook herself and returned to her conversation, ignoring them once again. Another conversation had met an awkward end.

“So Erica and Isaac own a bakery,” Stiles tried.

“Yeah, that started off as a joke, Erica and Isaac got competitive and I came back to the loft one day to find cakes covering every surface. They tried to make me try them all without telling me who made them and then declare a winner. There was no chance I was going to eat that much cake so I made them set up a stall out side the building for passersby to try their cakes… People kept coming back after that, wondering if they were going to make anymore and it just sort of spiraled from there.”

“Why am I not even surprised,” Stiles snorted.

“Are you telling Stiles about the time I beat Isaac?” Erica suddenly interrupted. Derek rolled his eyes so hard, Stiles was actually concerned for them.

“You did no such thing,” Isaac yelled from the other side of the room. And from there the conversation fell into what Stiles suspected was a fairly frequent rehashing of the events that had led to the creation of _Over The Moon_.

∞

Isaac and Kira’s flat was only a ten-minute drive from the Pack House, located on the edge of town in a slightly shady area. It was cozy though, more homely than anywhere Allison had lived in her entire life. The couch in the middle of the living room was ridiculously big considering the size of the room but somehow it fit. Cushions and blankets were thrown about haphazardly, plants were littered across the shelves and windowsills, intermingled with candles and books in a way Allison suspected only made sense to the flat’s inhabitants.

Isaac produced another bottle of wine and three glasses before joining them on the couch. Scott had sent everyone home at eleven, before anyone got too into their cups but Allison hadn’t felt like returning to the decrepit house despite the furniture they had acquired. So when Kira suggested they move the party back to her and Isaac’s place, Allison had been all too happy to agree.

“So how long have you two lived here?” she asked, flicking through the pile of books on the coffee table.

“About two years,” Kira shrugged, reaching for the wine bottle to top up her glass properly, making Isaac snort and roll his eyes. “I’d moved back in with my dad and Isaac had- well, we were both looking for somewhere new and when this came up we jumped on it. It’s not much but it’s home,” she smiled, cheeks tinged a beautiful pink.

“How come you’d moved back in with your dad?” Allison frowned, words out before she realised it might be a sensitive subject.

“My mum… She was killed in a Cherufe raid and my dad didn't handle it well,” Kira explained, voice controlled and emotionless. “I moved back to help him out, it took a while – he lost his job, lost his pride. But none of that compare to losing my mum. She was his whole life. He hasn't been the same since but he’s doing better,” she shrugged. Isaac reached over and rested a hand on her leg comfortingly. She smiled softly at him. “I probably would have stayed with him but he insisted I find my own place, wanted me to have that experience I guess. I’d been away for college but other than that had never really lived on my own.”

Allison tucked her toes under Kira’s thigh, smiling slightly when she turned to look at her. She had not seen Kira’s father around but she suspected he had taken a back seat to the supernatural business after his wife’s death. Noshiko had been an imposing woman, from what little Allison could remember of her, she had been strong and often ruthless but she had done so in order to protect those she loved. A trait Allison could admire.

“Sorry, I-” Kira bit off and Allison noticed the tears building up in her tired eyes.

“Don’t ever apologise.”

“It was like I lost both my parents at once, you know?” she sniffed. “My mum was gone and my dad – he was just this ghost. It was like he’d died with her and all I was left with was this empty, vacant echo of my dad. I should have stayed with him but honestly I couldn't handle it anymore.”

“You needed your own space to grieve,” said Allison, hand outstretched to stroke Kira’s hair as the younger girl started to let the tears roll down her cheeks.

“Sorry, I’ve probably had too much to drink,” she chuckled. “It’s not like I’m the only one whose lost someone, is it.”

And wasn't that the truth.

“We’re just a bunch of motherless misfits,” Isaac snorted, taking a rather long sip of his wine.

“And fatherless it would seem,” Allison muttered.

“What happened between you and your dad?” asked Kira and Allison should have seen that one coming. After her earlier question, she supposed she owed her. Not that it really mattered.

“He killed my mother.”

“ _What_?”

“Are we talking figuratively? Like his ideals and such killed her or…?” Isaac hedged.

“No we’re talking plunging-a-knife-into-her-heart killed her,” Allison spat out. “And then proceeding to do the very thing that caused him to kill her in the first place.”

“He didn't take the bite voluntarily,” Isaac frowned, unsure how much Allison actually knew.

“Perhaps not, in the end, but he was already thinking about it, before I left,” she explained.

“Is that why you left then? Because of your dad?”

“I left for many reasons but yeah, I guess that was the biggest one. Everything in my life had always been a lie but I thought that finally we had gotten past that – that we were completely honest with one another. And then it all came out, just streaming out in a drunken mess right after I’d almost died. I couldn't take it anymore. The lies, the constant fear of losing everything and everyone. I couldn't handle it. So I left. And maybe that made me weak but-”

“It didn't make you weak. It made you strong. You were strong enough to get out of this shithole and maybe that’s because you're human but you made it out and the rest of us should have followed your fucking lead,” Isaac practically growled, knuckles white against his glass. Kira rested a gentle hand on his forearm and he took a deep breath. “Maybe then I wouldn't have had to watch my fiancée get ripped to shreds right in front of me.”

“ _Isaac_ ,” Kira warned, taking the glass from his hands and setting it down on the table. When Allison had agreed to come back to their place for another drink, this was not what she had been picturing. She had had no intention of baring her soul and certainly no expectation that they would do the same. And yet there they were, all broken and fractured and trying to make sense of it all.

“It’s alright,” he sighed, thumbing running familiarly over Kira’s fingers before turning to Allison. “Her name was Norah, I met her at college, she’d come over from London and was completely jetlagged, I found her making breakfast in the dorm kitchen at nine in the evening. It wasn't love at first sight, not by a long shot – neither of us wanted anything serious. She didn't want an American boyfriend and I didn't want to get anyone involved in…” he waved his hand vaguely as if to incorporate the entirety of the fucked up mess that was the supernatural world.

“But then things started to quite down and I thought maybe it would be alright. We’d been dating for a year when I told her and that conversation could definitely have gone better,” he chuckled. “But after college she moved back here with me. She fit in with the pack so seamlessly and I honestly thought for the first time in years that life was really actually going well for once. And then another pack came to town, something about a territory dispute I think, I wasn't really paying much attention. We invited them out for drinks after the discussions, to celebrate, you know… And I- I don't even remember what happened. All I know is that one moment everyone was getting along and the next I’d stepped on someone’s toe or something and was being challenged… and then Norah was jumping to my defence and then she was lying at my feet. Beacon Hills is cursed, Allison, and once this thing with the Nemeton is over, I plan to get as far away from it as possible. And you should too.”

“But isn’t the Nemeton the curse?” she asked softly. “Break the Nemeton and you end the curse.”

“Yeah but you don’t wipe away the memories.”

“I’m not sure Stiles will leave,” she confessed, finally voicing the fear that had been plaguing her ever since he had turned the Jeep around. “And I won’t leave without him.”

“Do you know why he left?” Isaac asked, ignoring the glare Kira shot at him.

“Because his father died.”

“And do you know who killed his father?”

“No.”

“He did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses who the next chapter image is going to be? Relevant to Stiles' past?
> 
> [FIC TUMBLR](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [MY TUMBLR](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/)


	18. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is shitting herself about this chapter. Me. That would be me.
> 
> This is a pretty short chapter but it's pretty important.
> 
> Also from here hopefully it will mainly be going up.

   

   

   

_[Malia Tate](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/166397792828/malia-tate-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Past**

Dawn was barely creeping over the horizon when the crunching of leaves underfoot alerted Stiles that Allison was walking up the barely visibly drive to the house. She smelled like Kira and Isaac, which abated his worry a little. But the scent of sadness hung heavily about her, thicker and more pungent than usual. Jumping from his perch on the roof, Stiles landed silently on the porch and watched her amble the last few meters across the clearing.

“It wasn't your fault,” was what came out of her mouth when she was finally standing in front of him. The anticipation that had been building in Stiles, that he had studiously been ignoring, turned to lead and dropped like deadweight in his stomach. There was only so long he could have avoided this.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Isaac told me – he told me what happened.”

“Isaac had no right.”

“You never open up about anything Stiles!” she suddenly yelled, making him flinch backwards. “What was I supposed to do? I don’t know how to help you if you never tell me what’s wrong! You know everything about me Stiles – _everything_! Do you have any idea how stupid I felt, having to hear all of that from someone else? You should have told me Stiles! It should have been _you_!”

And then suddenly Renn appeared, grabbing them both by the collars of their shirts and dragging them towards the Wrangler. She looked fierce and Allison was starkly reminded that although Renn gave off the air of a carefree, fun loving teenager, there was so much more to her. She was wise beyond her years. Just like Stiles and Allison had been.

“Get in the fucking car before you wake everyone up,” she ordered, shoving Stiles into the passenger seat and climbing into the driver’s seat herself. “Some of the McCall pack came over last night and they haven’t left,” she explained to Allison in the rearview. “So unless you want this conversation broadcast to more than just us I suggest you shut up until we’re out of earshot.”

They drove for almost half an hour, until they were well outside the city limits before Renn pulled the Jeep into a deserted roadside picnic spot and killed the engine.

“You’re our alpha,” Renn started. “And you need to talk to us. Because we all know we can talk to you about anything – you know every little secret any of us has – but sometimes I don't think you realise it is a two way street. How can we fully trust you, if you don't fully trust us?”

“I do trust you.”

“Yeah? Then why did Allison have to hear about it from Isaac? _Allison_ , Stiles? She knows you better than any of us ever will and not even _she_ knew?”

“I’m right here,” Allison huffed from the backseat, glaring resolutely at her knees.

“It’s doesn't matter, it’s not important,” he growled.

“Of course it does.”

“Well then just ask Allison because apparently she knows all about it now,” he snorted humourlessly, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. Renn turned around and raised an eyebrow at the brunette still glaring at her knees. She flicked her gaze up to meet Renn’s and rolled her eyes.

“All Isaac said was that some psycho burned down your house with your father inside, he was going to die anyway, Stiles, you just spared him from the pain.”

“I cut my father’s spinal cord Allison, that a lot more than just stopping him from hurting,” Stiles snapped.

“Whoa, okay let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” Renn interrupted, clearly seeing this conversation was not going anywhere productive unless mediated. Stiles and Allison were mirrors of each other sometimes, both stubborn edges and fiery eyes, too proud to admit that they were hurting. “Who burned down your house?” she sighed when it became apparent Stiles was not going to volunteer any information on his own accord.

“My girlfriend.”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Ex_ -girlfriend. She was- we’d split up three months before hand. I thought she was completely fine with it; she didn't seem upset at all. Of course she’d only been dating me as a way to get into the pack. But at the time… yeah, I probably should have seen it coming but for the first time someone was choosing me. Not Scott. Not Jackson. Me. So I just went with it,” Stiles rambled, barely coherent.

“Slow down,” Renn urged. “I barely understood half of that.”

“I was dating this girl,” Stiles repeated through gritted teeth.

“Name?”

“ _Malia_ … I don't know if you remember her, you left shortly after she came onto the scene,” Stiles glanced up into the rearview to see Allison nodding. “She was a coyote. We found her in the woods, Scott forced her back into her human form, we were led to believe she had been stuck as a coyote for the past eight years. We were wrong.”

Stiles had always looked a little haunted, ever since Renn had met him. But today, in the cold morning light as he recounted the events that took him away from his home, from his pack… he looked almost ghostly. Fragile in a way Renn would never have thought possible. He looked completely and utterly broken. And it broke Renn’s heart a little.

“Turns out it was all a lie. She tricked us, all of us. Looking back now it was so obvious… But at the time I fell for it, defended her even when other’s doubted her. We were both in Eichen House together and… god it should have been so obvious. She practically threw herself at me. Picked the weakest one in the pack and wormed her way in through me. I was so flattered a hot girl was interested in me I ignored the fact that technically she should have had a mental age of a nine year old. How fucked up is that?”

In the rearview, Allison looked like she wanted to speak. But instead she just pursed her lips.

“She was working for her mother. A power-hungry psycho that went by the name of _The Desert Wolf_. They wanted to take over Beacon Hills and use the nemeton to summon a supernatural army,” Stiles laughed, a hollow ugly sound. “Not to mention the lure of a True Alpha and all the power that entailed.”

“So she seduced you? To get into the pack?” Renn clarified, fury bubbling under her composed surface.

“Yeah. We dated for like a year and a half… she was dedicated, I’ll give her that. They were gathering intel, trying to figure out how the nemeton worked and whether or not killing a true alpha would automatically transfer his power to her mother like a normal alpha or if it was different somehow. There are conflicting myths.”

“But then you broke up?”

“We just sort of drifted apart, there wasn't really a definite ending, we just… stopped,” he shrugged, picking at a fraying whole in his jeans. “I didn't love her, it wasn't like that… it was-”

“You were in love with someone else,” Allison supplied because she was not an idiot. Everyone had known.

“Yeah. Yeah I was…” Stiles’ fists clenched, knuckles turning white before he took a deep breath and flexed them. “It wasn’t awkward, or anything. We were civil – neither of us were really emotionally invested so it wasn't hard.”

“And then she burned your house down?”

“To be honest I’m still not totally sure why she did it,” Stiles confessed. “I think it must have been some kind of sick power play. She didn't have anything to gain from it but she and her mother had all the information they wanted so she didn't have to play nice anymore. “Maybe it was jealousy after all. Not because she loved me but because she felt that she owned me. Like if she couldn't have me, no one could. Or maybe she was just bored.”

“Why would she have been jealous? Did you start dating someone new?” Renn frowned.

“Derek,” he shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, perhaps, it was.

“Derek. Of course.”

“It was just that night. Just one night. And the next morning my house was burning down with my father tied up inside.” Stiles was only wearing a worn looking white t-shirt that hung loosely off his body and the tattoos on his arms were visible, darkening and shifting along with his emotions. He absentmindedly scratched at his shoulder, just by the junction of his neck.

“He was tied up? How did he get out?”

“I got him out. Ran straight in there and hauled him out. I used to have a lovely burn scare down the right side of my back as proof,” he snorted. “But thanks to the valravne that disappeared along with the rest of the scars on my body,” he explained but there was a strange blip to his heartbeat that only Renn heard. Like it was the truth, but not, all at once.

“I asked Scott to bite him but he was already beyond that,” Stiles explained trying to block out the memory even whilst recounting it. The sound of his father’s broken and charred voice whispering words like _I was born human and I’ll die human, Stiles_ and _I’m going to her Stiles, I’m going to see her again_. Those were things no one else had to know. Just like the look on Scott’s face when he told Stiles it was too late, that not even the bite could save him any more. Just like the hatred Stiles had felt for his best friend in that moment. That he would not even try.

“He asked me to finish it, so I did,” Stiles finally stated, emotionless and blank even though he could still feel the slick of blood running over his fingers, warm and thick, making him loose his grip on the knife. He could still see the flicker of light in his father’s eyes disappearing. Just like he had seen it extinguished in his mother’s. But most of all he still felt cold. Cold and empty.

“And then you left,” Renn stated, like the story had come to a natural conclusion.

And if only that were the case

“Not quite. I spent two days in the hospital. And then Peter found me.”

“Peter?” Allison frowned.

“Derek’s uncle?” Renn added.

“Malia was his daughter- it’s complicated,” he waved away, not having the energy for that conversation. “He told me he knew where she was. So I checked myself out and we hunted her down. Took us two weeks. I didn’t sleep, barely ate… everything in me, every part of me, was just focused on finding her.”

Allison felt a chill go up her spine despite the fact she was the only one wearing a proper coat.

“And then we found her. And I tied her to a chair whilst she laughed and told me the whole story – about her mother, about her plans, about how she fooled me, about how my father had cried whilst she tied him up. And then I cut her throat. Whilst she was bound and defenseless. And Peter stood by and watched.”

Allison felt sick.

“And as her blood soaked my fingers I realised what I had done. What it meant. And so I left. Took the next flight out of there bound for somewhere far away and never looked back.”

Renn sighed.

“So now you know.”

“Now we know,” Renn agreed, shaking her head a little before she turned the ignition back on. There was nothing more to talk about, nothing left to say.

No one said a word the entire way back. Not until they neared the edge of the forest.

“You were wrong, you know,” Allison stated. “When you said she went for the weakest member of the pack. She went for you because if anyone would have seen through her, it would have been you. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, or something. You were the biggest threat to her success. That’s why she chose you. Not because you were weak.”

And perhaps that was true, but somehow it still didn't help.

If anything, it made it worse.


	19. The Decision

 

   

   

   

_[Brett Talbot](http://the-unkindness-of-valravn.tumblr.com/post/167487928228/brett-talbot-in-the-unkindness-of-valravn) _

**The Decision**

The next few days Stiles spent avoiding people.

It happened sometimes. His pack – his _unkindness_ – were used to it. Sometimes he just needed to be alone. Tangled up inside his head, his thoughts provided endless hours of contemplation, doubt, insecurity and sometimes, very occasionally, a glimpse of hope. Sometimes he just needed to be alone with them. To sift through them and remember what was real, solid fact and what was just his brain playing tricks and filling in the blanks.

Lately it was becoming more and more the latter.

Regardless, his distance meant that he was not always aware of what his own pack were doing. Which is how he found himself standing across the street from an estate agents in the midmorning sun looking utterly confused. Because inside, Hugo and Logan were talking to Brett and another man Stiles’ did not recognise.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he heard Hugo curse, watching as he glanced towards the window. “Stiles is outside,” he whispered to Logan, who merely shrugged his shoulders and continued nodding along to whatever the fourth man was telling him. Brett followed Hugo’s gaze with a frown. “I’m going outside,” Hugo decided, muttering under his breath before making excuses to the man they were talking to and slinking out of the building.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked before Hugo had even managed to cross the street.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Hugo immediately blurted out. “Well actually, maybe it is,” he winced. “Brett was talking about a friend of his who worked for this estate company and we just got a bit carried away – we’re not actually going to buy anything, don’t worry,” he rambled.

“Are you looking at properties?” Stiles frowned.

“Uh… yeah, that’s generally the idea of going to an estate agent?”

“You want to stay.” It was a question. Or it should have been. But the flat way in which Stiles delivered it made it seem like a statement instead.

“No! Well, yeah- I mean, um… Obviously not, we were just looking around, it was just wishful thinking I guess,” Hugo sighed, slumping against the wall next to Stiles and suddenly it clicked.

“He finally caved, didn't he?” he asked although he already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Hugo confirmed.

Hugo and Logan had been together since the morning after Stiles had brought Logan home. Logan had not blinked twice at the thought of leaving his life in Argentina behind to follow Hugo across the globe, had never resented any of them for their nomadic lifestyle, had enjoyed himself most of the time. But Logan was a homebuilder, more so than the rest of them. It was always him that tried the hardest to make whatever decrepit place they were living in feel a little more homely, a little more permanent.

Stiles knew Logan would be far happier if they stayed in one place, if they put down roots somewhere, if they stopped leaving. He also knew that Logan would never leave Hugo and he would never ask Hugo to leave Stiles. So he followed them wherever they went.

Stiles knew Hugo would ultimately choose Logan. Even if Logan never made him choose. They were mates. Even if they had not bonded. Logan had been adamant that Hugo was too young. Too naïve. He had wanted Hugo to taste the world, explore its possibilities before bonding himself irreversibly to one man. He did not want Hugo to feel trapped.

And Stiles knew that it did not matter what Logan thought. Hugo had made up his mind. Some of the most important decisions in a person’s life – especially in the sort of life they lived – were made in a moment. One fleeting moment of utter certainty. And Hugo had had that moment so it didn't matter how long it took for Logan to give in, Hugo’s mind was fixed. For him, there was no one else.

Everyone always said that Stiles and Renn were so alike but the truth was Stiles sometimes looked at Hugo and saw so much of himself it made him sick. Hugo’s heart was untainted. He was a reflection of the person Stiles had been before his whole world shattered around him. And Stiles would do anything in his power to ensure that he stayed that way.

“You’re going to bond.”

Another statement.

“We practically are already, we’re just going to make it official,” Hugo shrugged, not entirely sure how his Alpha would react. “He’s it for me Stiles. Always has been. And finally he understands that, so I’m not going to wait for him to change his mind.”

“He won’t. You’re it for him too,” Stiles reassured, clapping his hand on Hugo’s shoulder and squeezing. The younger boy relaxed under his touch, exhaling in relief before he tensed again, thoughts darkening his face.

“We’re going to want to settle down one day Stiles, we want to have a family, a home,” Hugo frowned. “We got carried away here,” he indicated to the estate agents where Logan and Brett were still chatting to the other man. “But it’s going to happen one day.”

“I know.”

“I can't leave you,” Hugo sighed, words a choked whisper.

“I know,” Stiles repeated, reaching out and tilting Hugo’s chin up to force him to meet his eyes. They were family. If Hugo stayed, Stiles would stay. He had to know that.

Logan and Brett chose that moment to step out of the building and cross the street towards them. Brett wrapped an arm around Hugo’s neck and dragged him towards a nearby café, telling him in lavish detail about the deliciousness of their muffins. To which Hugo responded by informing him he didn't particularly life muffins.

“What made you change your mind?” Stiles asked once Brett and Hugo were some distance away, not out of earshot but not close enough to be part of the conversation either.

“You.”

“What?” Stiles frowned. He had contemplated many different answers but that had not been one of them.

“He’s still young. But he’s made up his mind,” Logan replied, expression more determined than Stiles had seen it since they left Argentina. “I didn't want him to feel trapped but it was more than that. I wanted to protect him from the agony if anything were to happen and we were separated.” Stiles winced as echoes of Carmen’s screams rang through his head. “But it turns out that even if you aren’t fully mated, once you’ve chosen – once you've _decided_ – that pain will be there regardless of whether the actual bond is. So I would rather bond with Hugo now and be happy than risk not ever knowing what that felt like and still feeling the agony anyway.”

Sometimes, Stiles felt like he didn't know anything at all.

“When the time comes and you decide to settle down, we will settle with you,” he promised, hand reaching for the back of Logan’s neck and ignoring the unsettling feeling that Logan’s words were somehow directed at him. “But I don't think I can do that here.”

“We’ll see,” Logan said, returning the gesture and pressing their foreheads together for a moment before pulling away and following his boyfriend and Brett into the café.

∞

Stiles ended up in the preserve, at the edges of the smallish lake that was nestled between the trees. There were the remnants of a campfire, surrounded by logs for seating. Sitting down with his back towards one of those logs, he stared out over the expanse of water wondering what the future held for him and his pack.

Hugo and Logan’s decision was inevitable. They had been building up to this moment since the day they met and Stiles was by no means going to get in their way. But it changed things. Not in a huge way. But it did. To have a mated pair made the pack stronger but it also made it more vulnerable. If one of them were kidnapped or hurt… the other could go made with grief. With misplaced guilt. Stiles wasn’t sure they would survive in tact this time.

It was Lydia who found him, hours later still staring over the lake. He had known she would, had been waiting for her to crack, to seek him out. Because Lydia’s curiosity came second only to Stiles’ own. It seemed he still knew her after all.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he snorted, picking up a stone and throwing it into the water as she primly sat on the log by his right shoulder. He let out a faint chuckle when he noticed she was holding a notebook and pen. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“First of all? How are you doing?” she responded, taking him by surprise. Her voice was gentler than he remembered or maybe it had softened over time. Her edges were less sharp.

“Surviving,” he shrugged. _Fine_ would have been a lie. And one did not lie to Lydia Martin. She would see right through you.

“Aren’t we all,” she sighed. “Now tell me about it.”

“I just want to warn you that valravne are quite possibly the most vague species on earth,” he muttered and Lydia frowned. “I am one and even I don’t fully understand it all.”

“How did you turn? Is it a bite, like a wolf?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I was in Ireland keeping a low profile and trying to stay out of the supernatural world entirely. The pub I was working in closed later than usual and there weren’t any busses running anymore so I had to walk back to where I was staying. It was foggy, which honestly should have been a warning sign but it was Ireland, Ireland is always foggy. Anyway, out of nowhere this creature comes lunching at me and honestly, it’s all a bit of a blur after that. I remember being in excruciating pain, I remember the horrendous stench, and I remember two figures appearing from the fog and then I passed out. I woke up three days later in this huge country manor with Carmen hovering over me.”

“And you’d changed?”

“Yeah, suddenly I could hear the heartbeat of every person for miles around, I could look out the window and see for distances I couldn't even imagine before. Even my sense of smell had improved,” he shrugged, picking at the fraying edges of a tear in his jeans. “I didn't understand what was happening at first but then I thought maybe I'd been bitten by a wolf but that just didn't feel right. It was too calm.”

“No urge to go loping off into the moonlight and eat raw bunnies, got it,” Lydia snorted, still scribbling in her notebook. Stiles chuckled.

“Carmen comes from an ancient line of valravne. They struggle to keep the line going though, valraven don’t seem to be the most fertile creatures and as I’m sure you’ve gathered _creating_ new valravne is not exactly an understood science. You can’t just go out a bite a bunch of people to keep the populations growing. It’s hereditary and that’s the main way for them to carry on the line. Carmen’s parents were lucky enough to have two children – she has an older brother, who has a wife and hopefully will one day have a child.”

“Do they have a network? Other valravne they know?”

“Valravne are a pretty paranoid bunch to be completely honest, there is a network and if need be, they can contact other unkindnesses but they tend to keep to themselves. Carmen’s parents were in touch with another unkindness from Nigeria, which is how she met Zara,” Stiles explained, both his heart and his fists clenching at the mention of her name. He forced himself to move quickly on. “If you want to know more about Valravn history then your best bet it to talk to Carmen, if you pester her enough she might even give you her parents’ number.”

Lydia nodded, eyeing him strangely but said nothing.

“Honestly I don’t know as much as I wish I did,” he confessed. “Especially because I’m not sure which parts of me are valravne and which parts are because of my spark. I’m not a very good case study.”

“But your senses? They’re all improved?”

“Sight and hearing the most, smell also but only at closer range,” he elaborated. “Jackson and Carmen have done many competitions and we think the valravne have better hearing than wolves but wolves have marginally better eyesight. And much better sense of smell.”

“But you can block wolves from sensing your presence?”

“Wolves and any other creature.”

“And are there any exceptions?” she asked and whilst her voice was as casual as the other questions, her gaze was sharp and focused on Stiles’ face like she was searching for a lie. Stiles could only shrug because he didn't even know the answer to that question himself.

“Your eyes? Purple is alpha status? Correct?”

“Well… to be honest, I’m not sure. Neither of Carmen’s parents had blue eyes, most valravne have silver of varying shades. I think the darker the silver the higher up in the ranks you are, or something.”

“Have you ever met another purple-eyed valravne?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Could it be because of your spark?”

“Possibly,” he frowned, because the answer didn't taste right on his tongue.

Lydia moved the conversation on to the physical abilities of valravne, their shifts and skills and different forms and Stiles happily answered her questions. She had avoided asking about Carmen’s eyes, for which he was grateful, and hadn’t pressed for information when Stiles had started to close up. All the while her pen flew across her notebook. And despite it all – despite the years, despite the trauma of it all – she suddenly reminded him of the Lydia from high school. The Lydia he had believed himself in love with.

“I never apologized,” he suddenly stated, making her look up from her notebook with a frown. “For putting you on a pedestal when we were in school,” he elaborated. “I thought because I knew you were smart that meant that I knew you netter than everyone else and somehow that meant my intentions were more honourable. But it didn't. I did exactly what everyone else did, just in a slightly more obsessive way… I put you on a pedestal like the rest of the student body when now, I suspect, all you really wanted was for someone to realise you were human too. I’m sorry. I should have apologized years ago.”

Lydia looked like she was about to cry.

“Thank you,” was all she could say, turning back to her notebook to hide the emotions on her face. Because some things didn't change. Especially now that Stiles was practically a stranger.

“I’m pretty sure the only one who didn't put you on some kind of pedestal was Scott actually,” Stiles mused, once again picking at his jeans. “And look where you two are now,” he chuckled, although it lacked any real humour.

“You broke his heart when you left.”

“I know.”

“It wasn't his fault and you were wrong to blame him for it,” she added passionately.

“I know that too.”

Lydia deflated.

“We are two very different people now, me and Scott. If he knew… If he knew what I had done before I left he never would have let me back on to his territory,” Stiles explained, eyes fixed on his knees. Lydia didn't reply for a long time and eventually Stiles turned back around to look at her. She was giving him a strange look once again.

“Scott already knows what you did.”


End file.
